


Sunflowers and Fireflies

by BlueColoredDreams



Series: Rivers and Roads [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adoption, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Slow Moving, child oc, domestic fic, post-college setting, their parents are practically OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're 25 and just starting to make their headway out into the world. The roughest edges of themselves have been smoothed away from the early years of turmoil and stumbling youth; they're happy in their small apartment with its peeling paint and drafty windows. They don't need much more than money for train fare and tuition and food and the warmth of the other by their side. </p><p>They’re 25 when the call comes and they leave for Miyagi from their Tokyo apartment, and Tadashi realizes that maybe, there was so much more to work for, to want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If My Heart Was a House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't technically be posting this because it'll distract me from tsukkiyama fest but I've been working on this for about a month and idk I just love this story ok uuuuuwuuhhh

They’re 25 and just getting by. Rent in Tokyo isn’t cheap, train fare is a necessity, and Tadashi’s finally finished his six years of prerequisite veterinary studies. He works and he studies, and he’s managed to snag a job as a vet tech under a doctor who doesn’t mind that he’s just barely finished his first year of classes at Nōkōdai for his own doctorate’s; it doesn’t pay a lot, but he and Kei don’t need too much more than tuition, train fare, and food, and Kei has a job as well.

Their small, one-bedroom apartment is just big enough for both of them to spread their materials out across the floor and sit back to back in the living room to quiz each other. Tadashi asks Kei about laws and statutes and ethics for his bar, and Kei asks Tadashi tedious questions about biology and medicine and chemistry. The paint peels slowly off the walls, the hot water goes a little too quickly, and there’s a breeze in the winter, but they’ve lived here for nearly seven years, ever since they came to Tokyo together, and when it’s cold, they just put another comforter on the bed and make sure they’re wearing socks.

The apartment itself is ratty, but it’s been lived in with love and care and stubborn devotion. It’s seen fights and the subsequent apologies. It’s seen screaming fits about giving a damn and effort and the fallout from bad grades in an essential class. It’s seen both of them stubbornly sleeping on the floor away from the other and frantic cramming sessions and weeks where they choose between school, rent, and food; it’s seen endless midnight coffees and morning kisses. It’s seen tears over how it took Tadashi’s parents two years after they told them they were dating to come around and accept that Kei was who was best for Tadashi.

It’s small and old, but it’s home. It was there that they chose to make their life, and there where they slipped the thin, silver rings on the other’s finger and decided that they’d make whatever the future brings them work, their arguments be damned.

They’re 25 and stubborn and still young with dreams that are built on aspirations, love, and persistence.

It’s early April: the air is still a bit too cool in the mornings, but it’s balmy in the afternoon as the cherry blossoms that drift through the air like New Year’s confetti track in and out of the apartment like drifts of snow from their shoes and coats and bags.

He’s fishing one out of Kei’s hair when his phone rings, loud against their laughter. “It’s my mom,” he murmurs, face pinched with concern.

Kei waits patiently as Tadashi talks, his voice dropping from conversational to tight and hushed, face whitening underneath his freckles. Kei frowns and watches as Tadashi brings a shaking hand up to nervously twist a strand of his hair around his finger. He pulls it free of his small ponytail at the nape of his neck as he talks and starts stretching the elastic band between his thumb and forefinger as he listens to his mother on the other end.

Kei leans aside as the band snaps and flies towards him. He looks at Tadashi, who’s still in his bright, printed scrubs from work, hair lose around his neck and looking strained and nervous. “Um, I’ll make the necessary calls,” he says, “And I’ll tell Tsukki and see if he wants to come too. How long?” He pauses, then nods and swallows. “I’ll call you back. Yes. Okay, I love you too. Bye.”

Kei tips his head to the side and steps forward, wordlessly ushering Tadashi to their small makeshift living room. It’s just an old sofa and their TV, surrounded by dusty piles of video games and consoles and DVDs that they only occasionally watch; it shares the space with their kitchen, with the washer and dryer tucked into a small alcove behind a brightly printed curtain (once, there were doors, but those were long gone).

Tadashi sits on the threadbare sofa, leaning into Kei as he settles beside him. “So what’s up?” he asks, sliding a hand against Tadashi’s shoulders, pressing his fingers into the cotton of his scrubs.

Tadashi rubs his hands against his face, and then cards them through his hair. “Um, one of my cousins—I don’t really know her well, to be honest, but… She and her husband were in a wreck and… well, they both died the day before last,” he says quietly. “They had a daughter and she was at home with the sitter, so she’s okay, but the entire family is meeting for the service and after, they’re going to talk about what’s going to happen to her. Mom was only just now able to call me about it.”

“That’s… horrible,” Kei says slowly.

“It is, isn’t it?” Tadashi laughs. It’s a warbling, faint sound and Kei knows from experience that it means Tadashi’s panicking slightly. He slides his hand up into Tadashi’s hair and tugs him forward to rest against his chest. Tadashi tucks himself into Kei’s lap and continues laughing for a few seconds before his voice cuts off into a half-swallowed sob. “Her name’s Kana, by the way. …All I remember is that she was older than me, her mom is...my father’s sister, I think. We weren’t able to meet up with that side of the family often since they lived so far away. She gave me sunflowers once when I was little. She’d gone and picked them off the side of the road. We both had freckles, and she knew I didn’t like mine,” he murmurs softly. Kei listens quietly as Tadashi slowly pieces out small memories and facts about his cousin, one by one, until the brunet could put together a person to mourn. “So she picked the sunflowers and told me that we both were like sunflowers, since our freckles were proof we turned our faces to the sun. Actually, if I think about it, we looked a lot alike… She came to one of our games once, our third year. Did you know that? She was on a business trip to Sendai, and came during her lunch break, but couldn’t stay. When we got home from the tournament, there was a bouquet of sunflowers for me.”

Kei feels tears drip onto his collar where Tadashi has his head tucked up against his neck. He lays his cheek against the other man’s head, rubbing circles into his lover’s back. “Which game?” he asks.

“The one where I finally served for those ten points Shōyō had been bugging me about since first year,” Tadashi answers with a shuddering laugh. He pauses and gathers his composure. “The service is a week from now,” he says quietly. “Mom wants me to come to Miyagi as soon as I can to help my grandparents and dad organize the meeting and the ceremony. She also wants help looking after the little girl. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You… you know how my family is.”

“I’ll make the arrangements to get there,” Kei offers softly, sliding his fingers through Tadashi’s hair. “I’ll go too, so don’t worry.”

Tadashi leans back, eyes damp even though he was smiling softly. “Thank you,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to his lover’s cheek. “I’m going to start calling my professors and Ono-sensei at the clinic.”

“Don’t forget to change,” Kei calls out as Tadashi stands and moves into their bedroom to make the calls. He fishes his laptop out of his bag, which he’d left by the entryway. He brushes the petals off of his bag and starts thinking about who he needed to call as well. There was his job and his professors, and the law firm he interned at every Thursday and Friday. He can hear Tadashi’s apologetic murmuring to his professors, promising to study and to turn in work electronically. He can hear the strain in his voice when he speaks to his sensei at the animal clinic; it makes him angry when he thinks about it, about how poorly Tadashi is treated at the clinic.

Tadashi won’t quit, though, because he loves the job, even though he’s treated like a volunteer despite being certified enough to start clinical work. The clinic can’t fire him, because they can’t fault his work, and they don’t necessarily have proof that Tadashi is gay, because after the first day, he stopped wearing his ring to work, leaving it carefully in a small dish by the front door so he can keep it on as long as he can before leaving, and put it on as soon as he gets home; he knows Tadashi doesn’t talk much there either.

He knows how disappointed Tadashi gets when they hit snags in the road about their relationship—he’d thought that people in Tokyo would be a bit more used to it, a bit more open. It was so different from back at home, in their small town where they’d grown up just as attached at the hip as they were now, where their friends had grown used to their joint presence, and even Tadashi’s parents, as steadfastly against them as they were at first, had relented once they saw how well Tadashi flourished in Tokyo with Kei.  

But they’ve both entered highly professionalized, highly academic fields that have a lot of older people dominating the field, and that’s just how it is, no matter how angry Kei gets about it. He bides his time to do something about it until he has a chance, when he has his pin sitting on his chest; sunflowers make him think of Tadashi anyway, so it won’t really matter if he can’t wear his ring in court.

It will please him greatly, he thinks as Tadashi stammers into the phone, bowing out of habit even as he sits on the edge of their bed, that the same symbol of the laws that keep them from being officially recognized as a couple, that make them keep excel documents with extensive bill planning and emergency planning because they haven’t been able to do much else yet, that help keep some of the old, heavily traditional prejudices around will remind him of the man he loves.

It’s taken a while though, to come to this point, where he can acknowledge the frustration that, at the moment it doesn’t matter what he tries—he’s not going to change anything or come out of it with anything more than what he started with.  If he were the same as he was when he was younger and bullheaded and scared, he would have never made it to Tokyo with Tadashi. He would have let the fruitlessness of their struggles against the world keep him from making this small home with the other man.

Neither of them are the same, not really. They’ve grown up and left some of the fumbling insecurities of their teenage years, and replaced them with new ones and new goals and fears. The pass rate for the bar is low—Kei’s already taken, and failed, several mock-exams based on it. He’s still got a year of law school left, and then only three chances to take the bar for real. He’s scared that he’ll have worked all this time and end up with nothing. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it gets to that point, honestly.

Tadashi has a whole doctorate’s program ahead of him, and it’s expensive, and he’s told Kei that he’s afraid that his luck will run out, despite the fact that he works hard. He cries, he tells Kei in a whisper under the sheets, when he has to tell clients that the best thing to do for their pet is to put them to sleep. He’s starting to be afraid that he’s not cut out for the work. He loves the animals, he says, but sometimes it breaks his heart to see them in pain; he’s scared he’ll never learn enough to help. He’s had roughly seven years of training now, but he feels like he knows nothing at all. Kei knows this isn’t true, because he’s quizzed Tadashi on things that he can barely even grasp, and Tadashi rattles the answers off like they’re a grocery list.

They’re both afraid of messing up with each other, of not carrying numbers when doing the bills; they’re afraid of getting sick, of accidents, of ending up without each other instead of winning volleyball games and of bullies and of getting caught kissing in the locker room. And that’s okay, because even though their lives are so much different, the parts that are the same are the things that matter most.

Tadashi is kind and Kei is clever; between the two of them, they’ll get through it. He books tickets on the train to Sendai, and then arranges for a car so they can drive home. He sends e-mails to his bosses and his professors, knowing that they preferred e-mailing correspondence between colleagues to keep their phone lines free for clients; they’ll call him if the need is dire.

It isn’t. He receives confirmation emails all at the same time, and is sent files for review for the firm he’s working for as a pseudo-secretary. He can’t _actually_ work as any sort of professional in the field, and he’d rather die than take an internship without pay, but he’s good at research and proofing, and his sharp tongue has (somehow) managed to snag him some good connections in the field, ending with this job. He sends the ticket and car confirmations to their finicky old wireless printer and closes his laptop.

He strides into the bedroom and kneels on the floor in front of Tadashi. Tadashi reaches out and brushes his fingers through Kei’s hair and smiles faintly at the blond. 

Kei reaches forward and turns on the scratched up old iPod on the dresser and rummages through the sheets for Tadashi’s pajamas. He leans up and wipes the damp lines of tears off of his lover’s face, then guides him up onto his feet, and into their tiny bathroom.

“Shower. Change. I’ll make dinner,” he instructs, glaring Tadashi down as if daring the slighter man to question that he knew what was best for Tadashi. Tadashi just laughs and turns on the water, shaking the old handle just so in order to get the hot water going. Satisfied, Kei goes into the kitchen and starts dinner.

They have leftover rice and vegetables, so he chops up chicken and makes a stir-fry with painstaking attention, his mother’s instructions from the sixth month period between getting accepted to college with Tadashi, announcing his intentions to live together with Tadashi, and moving out still loud in his mind even years later.

Before her Spartan training, he’d not really been able to do much: he could make tea and rice, and if pressed, omelets. He was better at helping others cook than cooking, really. But she’d sighed and shook her head at him, sat him down, and then told him that any man worth his salt as a partner had to know how to cook.

 _You want to be able to take care of Tadashi-kun when he’s tired or sick or can’t cook for you,_ she said, _and you **can’t** make that boy live off of convenience store food, because he would **never** do that to you. _

And so he’d learned, much to Tadashi’s amusement. But his mother hadn’t been wrong. Tadashi only brought home convenience store food when they were both sick and tired, or as a treat; when Kei got sick, Tadashi cooked for him and coaxed Kei into eating. In return, Kei did the same: The first time he had to take care of Tadashi and cook alone, rather than in tandem with the brunet, he had to thank her. The weak, feverish smile he’d received from Tadashi when he’d brought in soup had been worth his mother’s nagging and eye rolling and endless cooking lessons.

Always wait to salt, always taste before putting in more seasoning. Don’t walk away from the pan. Small tips for fluffier, softer rice that didn’t stick to the bottom of the pan in a glutinous lump that had to be scoured at for ages before it lifted; tips for eggs that didn’t burn at the edges (though that still happened sometimes). How to make miso and stock and how to freeze it in batches.

The instructions play in his mind as he cooks, along with smaller things his parents had taught him that helped him live as an adult. Phone courtesy, how to fold socks before washing so they stayed together in the machine, how to tie a tie. Smaller lessons that he’d never realized he’d picked up on until he was living with Tadashi freely: how to greet your significant other when they come home, how to make small concessions about the folding of the wash. All things to make life for two easier, how to smooth out the rougher edges of their youth so they could focus more on the larger knots and divots in the way, so that when they tripped, they didn’t cut themselves too badly on their inexperience.

Other things, his brother taught him. How to swallow his pride. How to move on. How to apologize. All things necessary for a life that was shared with another person in any capacity.

Tadashi taught him everything else: how to ask for help when he needed it or wanted it, how to acknowledge pride as something constructive, how to smile freely and how to hold his tongue when he could taste his words like acid on his lips. How to share and how to let someone into his personal bubble, how to be gentle, and how to be tactful. How to control his temper.

These things are easy to overlook, and so he makes himself think about them constantly. He starts to stir in the leftover vegetables into the pan with the chicken, stirring it so it wouldn’t stick. He’s divvying up portions and pouring tea when Tadashi pads out into the living area and sniffs the air curiously. His hair drips onto the shirt that Kei knows he bought but can’t remember if it was intended for him or Tadashi, but is now entirely Tadashi’s favorite thing to sleep in, and Kei raises an eyebrow.

Tadashi dutifully raises his hands to the towel around his neck and scrubs at his hair until it’s a frizzy, damp mess; his obedience is slightly ruined by the fact that he has his face screwed up and is sticking his tongue out the entire time, but that’s just normal.

They sit at their small, thrifted dinner table that’s pushed up against the wall on one side to make room, legs sprawled out across from each other, feet in the other’s space.

“I let everyone know I’m going back to Miyagi,” Kei says as they eat. “Family emergency. They didn’t ask whose so I didn’t say.”

“That’s probably prudent,” Tadashi sighs, reaching out to pour Kei more tea. He’s vaguely aware that some of Kei’s colleagues are more open minded than his own, especially the other students, and he’s under the impression that the law firm doesn’t actually care, as long as Kei does his research, smoothes out their mistakes, and bitches at reporters like he’s supposed to. “I’ll let my mom know after we eat. When are the tickets for?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I figure we can pack together in the morning.”

Tadashi nods, sitting thoughtfully as the tinny music from their bedroom floats through the apartment. “Do you know if my suit is here or in Miyagi? It’s not in the closet.”

“Miyagi because you’re stupid and left it after Hitoka and the idiot’s ceremony,” Kei says promptly.

“You call Hitoka-chan Hitoka, yet refuse to call Shōyō by name?” Tadashi laughs, sniggering into his food.

“Because Hitoka has half a brain. At _least_. I’m still surprised neither of them barfed or ran away crying at the altar, really,” Kei says, smirk curling across his lips. 

Tadashi rolls his eyes and finishes up his food. “You’re _sure_ it’s there, right?”

“Yes.”

“Whose house is it at?” Tadashi asks, chewing on his lip. “We stayed with both of our families during that trip, remember?”

Kei drums his fingers on the table thoughtfully. He remembers. He remembers being drunk after the reception too, and peeling off Tadashi’s suit in the dark, shushing his lover by pushing one of the nice silk ties they were wearing in the slighter man’s willing mouth to bite down on. He remembers fumbling and trying to be quiet himself by smothering himself against Tadashi’s neck, because even though their parents—both sets—were aware of their relationship and approved of them by the time their friends got married, Kei and Tadashi know without a doubt they wouldn’t approve of their sons fucking in their houses (even though they were sleeping together before they lived together). He pauses and strains his mind; he _still_ can’t remember whose family home they’d stumbled their way into, smashed and handsy and filled with unspeakable longing, and he can tell by the blush on Tadashi’s face _he’s_ remembering the second silk tie around his wrists and _not_ whose childhood bed they’d re-christened.

He thinks harder, about the morning when they’d both woken up hungover and slightly sore and overwhelmingly wistful for the things they can’t actually have without leaving the country. “Ah, mine,” he says, remembering the blurry shapes of his old dinosaur collection, still dusty on the shelves even though his parents use his and Akiteru’s rooms for storage now. “We’ll stop by on the way to your house… I should let my mother know,” he murmurs, glancing towards his phone on the counter.

“Probably for the best,” Tadashi agrees. “Let her know we’ll try to come over and visit. It sounds like there might be a lot of puttering around and waiting about—we can probably visit around, too. I wouldn’t let them know before we know if we can, though.”

“No use in getting the idiots overexcited without reason,” Kei murmurs as he stands, gathering their plates. He grabs his phone and tucks it into his pocket after depositing the dishes into the sink.

Tadashi rises from his chair as well, settling beside Kei as they wash and dry the dishes.  They bump elbows and get in each other’s way more than they help each other, but Kei allows Tadashi to huddle up into his side. He knows that when the other man is stressed, he craves physical touches; their ever-deepening skinship had been one of the first heralds of their feelings for each other. It hadn’t been the smoothest ride, but the old hurts don’t matter; they’re like this now, and that’s what matters.

Once they finish, he presses his hand to Tadashi’s back and guides him back into the bedroom, flicking off the light in their small kitchen/living area. It’s not completely dark out yet, dirty twilight slinking through the gaps in their blinds from the small window in the kitchen and the larger one over their bed. It doesn’t matter much; they’ll still sleep.

He starts to step out of his slacks as Tadashi crawls into bed, tossing his phone after the brunet. “Text my mother about your suit,” he instructs, unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugs it off and lets it fall with his slacks and he slides into bed after Tadashi in his boxers and the tee-shirt he wore under his button-up.

Tadashi practically rolls on top of him, fingers tapping over Kei’s phone. “I also let her know why we’re in town and that we plan to visit,” he says. “She might want to call and see if Aki-nii wants to come and visit if he can. It’s been a while since he’s been able to see us.”

Kei snorts and gently pries the phone out of Tadashi’s fingers. “As _if_ I want to subject myself to him teasing us mercilessly,” he murmurs, pushing it under the pillows. Tadashi reaches out and hunts for the charger cord, plugging it in so it wouldn’t die overnight; he lays it next to his own under the edge of their pillows, tapping his phone’s screen to make sure it really was charging. The last thing they need is one of their phones to die when they’re in the middle of a whirl of sudden plans and traveling.

“If I recall correctly, it’s the other way around, Tsukki,” Tadashi chides lightly.

“Is it really?” Kei wraps his arms tightly around the brunet and rolls them over onto their sides. Tadashi presses his forehead into the crook of the blond’s neck and Kei reaches down to pull the comforter over their heads.

“Yes. You had him completely convinced we eloped to Kyoto last time,” Tadashi snickers. “And then the time before last, when I was sick, he called me in a panic thinking we’d broken up because you were so vague about where I was.”

“That one is _not_ my fault.”

Tadashi continues to laugh, remembering the utter despair in Akiteru’s voicemail message where he’d vehemently defended ‘all, like, _three_ ’ of Kei’s good points, where at least two of them had to do with Tadashi. He’d texted Kei afterwards, asking why exactly he hadn’t told his brother he had the flu and let him think they’d broken up. The response had been ‘because it was amusing’. He slides his hands up Kei’s back, feeling drowsy under the heavy warmth of his lover and their comforter.

“I set the alarm early so we can pack,” he murmurs.

Kei nods and traces his thumb against the curve of Tadashi’s hip until the slighter man relaxes completely against him and starts to snore. He pulls his glasses off and sets them aside, laying awake for a while before drifting asleep with Tadashi’s leg slung over his thighs and hooked behind his knee, arms wrapped tight around his middle. He acts as an anchor and pillow for Tadashi’s restless sleeping habits and Tadashi keeps him warm and feeling safe. He never can quite fall asleep until the other’s weight is pressed unevenly and sloppily against him and their contained cuddling turns into an awkward tangle of limbs. It’s a bad habit that formed when they were much, much younger, and he was half afraid that if he slipped off to sleep, he’d wake up with Tadashi gone.

He won’t admit it, but sometimes he dreads the days that Tadashi has to work early mornings or late, late nights. Seven years is a long time to grow used to another’s presence; the mornings and nights he has to do without make him remember the times when waking up with Tadashi drooling on his arm or snoring in his ear wasn’t an assured thing, or even something that happened frequently.

Sometimes the distaste he has for being in the apartment completely alone makes him wonder if he’s grown dependent on Tadashi’s love and company.

He’s pretty certain he could live on his own if he _had_ to, it’s not like he lacks any skills that would make living alone impossible. But those skills were cultivated solely for using in a life _with_ Tadashi at his side. To cook when Tadashi can’t or is tired or when Kei wants to spoil him; to do the dishes with Tadashi’s elbows bumping into his own, and their voices mixing over the sink; to do the wash with both of their clothes in the piles and ending up with mismatched socks—one of Tadashi’s on one foot, and his own on the other—and cursing with the other man when it rains when they’ve left their comforter out to air; shopping together and keeping each other from extraneous purchases (‘ _no, it’s not strawberry season, you **will** regret it_ ’s and ‘ _there isn’t any room in the freezer for fries_ ’s)…

Kei is perfectly capable of doing these things without Tadashi, and he knows Tadashi is too. Sometimes they have to do them alone, because the other is at school or work, or out with colleagues or visiting with friends; sometimes Kei goes out and drinks with Kuroo. Sometimes Tadashi visits with Kenma and Lev and Yaku. Sometimes the people are different, someone Tadashi knows from class and Kei never meets or vice versa.

No, both of them are able to be on their own, and live their own lives, but it’s just easier, happier, warmer with the other beside them. Chores aren’t too much work, and even going grocery shopping in the large supermarkets that make Kei’s ears ring and exhaust him is more enjoyable with Tadashi. Going out with other people is more fun when he knows that there’s someone home waiting for him to get back, and will listen to his accounts of the night.

If that’s dependent… well, then, he’s doomed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes about terms/thematics:  
> Nōkōdai--[Tokyo University of Agriculture and Technology](http://www1.gifu-u.ac.jp/~ugvphdhp/english/index.html); they offer graduate and doctorate programs in several areas of veterinary science.  
> Lawyers receive a pin when passing the Japanese bar and wear it when acting in official capacities; [different practices receive different pins](http://www.mutantfrog.com/2009/06/19/japans-badge-phenomenon/). The one Tsukki refers to is an attorney’s pin, which is a sunflower and a set of scales.  
> While not mentioned in text, Tsukki attends Hitotsubashi, a very prestigious national university with both masters and doctorates programs in law.


	2. Children of the Sun

Kei wakes up to the alarm beeping insistently at his ear, Tadashi curled against him. He lets it go on until it shuts off, and neither of them really bothers to even pretend to wake up until it starts up again five minutes later. Kei rolls over so he can slide his hand under the pillow for the phone. He groans in irritation as he fails to find it before it rolls over to snooze again. He stretches slightly, and finds the phone at the edge of the bed.

He can’t be assed to key in Tadashi’s passcode to shut the alarm function off, so he just tugs the phone free of the charging cord and rolls onto his back. Tadashi groans and pushes his face into the pillows. Kei reaches out and slides his hand down Tadashi’s back. “Wake up,” he mumbles, voice rough.

Tadashi gives another sound that sounds far more suited to a zombie film than to a mousy-haired veterinarian-in-training. Kei drops Tadashi’s phone beside the brunet’s ear and slides out of the bed. It’s a bit chilly, so he grabs a sweatshirt from the closet and tugs it on. He hears the alarm start to go off again, and he swears to god, it’s the most obnoxious noise ever, but Tadashi’ll probably sleep through it three more times before he gets out of bed.

He sighs and goes to start the coffee pot before showering. If the alarm doesn’t work, the smell of coffee will. If the coffee doesn’t, then the shower running will. Sure enough, when he emerges from the shower and moves into the bedroom to get dressed, the bed is rumpled and empty and he can hear Tadashi sleepily talking on the phone.

“We’ll be there tonight,” he hears. Tadashi’s talking to… one of their mothers. He grabs a pair of boxers from the drawer and pulls them on before grabbing a sweater and a button down. He tosses them onto the bed so he can grab his nice jeans from the closet.

He starts to get dressed, still listening to the strains of Tadashi’s conversation. “No, we’re eating with Tsukki’s family.” So it’s Tadashi’s mother.

He tugs his sweater on over his shirt and straightens his glasses before heading into the living area. Tadashi’s standing at the kitchen counter, head cocked to the side to hold the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he struggles to pour cream into his coffee and talk at the same time. Kei steps up quickly, just as Tadashi’s phone slides from between his shoulder and cheek. He manages to grab it before it hits the counter, although he nearly manages to drop it himself in his haste to prevent a disaster.

Tadashi blinks at him and laughs suddenly, “Ah, nice save, Tsukki!” he compliments.

“Don’t hold it like that, stupid,” Kei sighs for maybe the fifteenth time that month alone (the number of phones Tadashi goes through is obscene) and hands the phone back, taking the cream carton instead. He pours some into Tadashi’s cup, then into his own, which Tadashi had set out and already poured coffee into.

“Ah, sorry, no, yeah, I dropped the phone,” Tadashi says to his mother. “Tsukki caught it. It was _kind of_ cool. … What?! _No_! We’re not flirting!”

Kei almost chokes on his coffee. Only Tadashi’s mother could—well, it’s not as if it’s far off. He’s always amazed that Tadashi’s mother has made such a turnaround from her early, stern days of disapproval to teasing Tadashi about flirting.

Instead he just puts the cup down and schools his face into something that resembles calm and not desperately trying not to cough. He coughs anyway. Tadashi sniggers into the phone and turns his back to Kei. “ _Anyway,_ now that you’ve killed Kei, I was saying, you can go ahead and have dinner without us. …Yes, I’ll call you when we get to Sendai.” He hangs up and turns to face the blond. “G’morning, Tsukki.

“…You ‘weren’t’ flirting, then you were,” Kei says wryly, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure if Tadashi’s mother had caught how Tadashi had dropped his pet name, but he had.

“Maybe just a little,” Tadashi answers with a grin, the type that made his eyes turn up at the edges and his nose crinkle, and Kei swears the coffee’s not strong enough because it makes his heart all soft and fluttery. He would have thought after seven years (and more) with this man, he’d get used to it.

“Weren’t you ever taught to not lie to your parents?” Kei asks, putting his coffee mug aside in favor of kissing Tadashi until their coffee’s gone over to the colder side of lukewarm and they have to break away because there’s a deadline they have to meet.

Tadashi smiles up at him like he’s planned the entire morning to end up like this—cold coffee and dropped cell phones and weak knees. He leans up and kisses Kei’s cheek. “We should start packing,” he says, then meanders off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and straighten up.

 Kei downs his tepid coffee and grabs a granola bar from the counter and opens it, trying to remember where they’ve squirreled away their various suitcases as he eats.

There’s the one over the washer and dryer, and then the other from under the bed. There’s a duffle bag in the closet, but he doesn’t think they’ll need it. A week isn’t that long. He grabs the one from over the washer first, and carries it to their bed.

He starts ‘packing’ by tossing a few pairs of gym shorts and sweatshirts onto the bed to sleep and go jogging in (he doubts they’ll be that ambitious, but the sentiment remains). Then he lays out shirts for them both, just grabbing whatever was on the top layer of the drawers. He hears Tadashi start humming tunelessly as he brushes his teeth and smiles despite himself.

He opens the closet for their shoes, and puts his aside—Tadashi can choose his own. Half the time he wears his battered old converse anyway. He starts pushing aside hangers so he can reach his suits in the back of the closet. He could have sworn they wouldn’t be all the way to Narnia since he wears them fairly frequently now, but they still are, and he swears as he half-trips on a pair of shoes as he steps into the long, narrow space to grab one of them.

“If you’re after your suits, pack the navy one,” Tadashi calls from the bathroom, leaning out of its cramped space as he tugs a brush through his hair. “It looks better on you than the black one. That one may be nicer and more traditional, but it makes you look like you’re dead inside. …Well more so than usual,” he teases with a snicker.  

“Thanks mom,” Kei says dryly, even though he reaches for the navy suit’s hanger anyway. He lays it on the bed along with the weeks’ worth of button ups, pants, and pullovers for both him and Tadashi. He starts fishing out tee shirts and underwear.

Tadashi pulls the brush through the last bit of tangles in his hair before tossing it onto the pile on the bed. He slips an elastic band from around his wrist after gathering his hair at the nape of his neck, and lets it slide from his fingers against the bunch of hair there. “Oh, don’t pack the cream sweater, I hate that one,” he complains as he winds the elastic around his ponytail.

“ _I_ like it,” Kei retorts. “And it was on the top of the pile.”

“You like taking it _off_ ,” Tadashi snorts, reaching for the sweater in question. “Which, I guess, subjectively, that means you _do_ like it, but that’s not enough to get me to wear it.”

“Then why do you even have it?”

“For some inexplicable reason, that sweater turns you on,” Tadashi says shamelessly. He grins as Kei scoffs and rolls his eyes; it doesn’t matter how much Kei tries to bluff his way out of this one, because the fact still stands that the last time he wore that sweater, Kei ended up blowing him against the front door after they came home from dinner. He stuffs the sweater back into the drawer and starts pulling out what he’s going to wear for the day. “I don’t know why you like it that much.”

“It’s nice, I guess,” Kei answers as he starts to roll their shirts and underwear so they’ll fit snugly into their suitcase. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer,” Tadashi replies as he laughs. He moves to grab one of his nicer pairs of pants out of the closet. He’s gotten so used to wearing scrubs and jeans, he’s not really sure what’s appropriate wear for ‘going home to a house full of relatives that he doesn’t really know that well, and that already hate him and his boyfriend’. He wonders if early April is a bit too late in the year for corduroy, but they are nice pants, and Kei doesn’t bitch at him about it, and _he’s_ the one who keeps track of those things since he _has_ to look nice for his job.

He pulls them on and picks up a nice shirt and tugs it over his head, making sure the collar lies flat and the buttons are all aligned right before he starts to tuck it in. Somewhere, he has a belt, but he’ll find it later. For now, he starts helping Kei fold up their clothes, double checking what the blond’s laid out for them both.

They pack up their toiletries after their clothes, Kei silently putting their toothpaste and shampoo in different plastic bags, which went into another plastic bag. Tadashi can’t help but sit and giggle at the severity with which Kei does this, because he can vividly remember the first time they made the trip back home for winter break to visit Kei’s family, and their toothpaste had exploded in their suitcase on the train ride there, leaving them with a sticky, minty mess. Akiteru had laughed at them until he was near in tears, and Kei’s mother looked fairly unimpressed with her youngest son’s thoughtless packing, her face very clearly saying ‘and I thought I taught you better’. Tadashi had laughed as well; it was the only thing that kept him from crying because he was homesick despite the fact that his parents were only a few blocks away—they’d made it clear that they didn’t want to see him until he broke up with Kei and transferred somewhere closer to home, and changed his major to something more achievable. Since then, Kei had always packed with an air of caution.

They continue to pack up odds and ends of things—spare books to read, a gift they’d picked up for Kei’s father a few weeks previously.

Kei finds Tadashi’s belt, and Tadashi packs up their laptops and Kei’s iPod and makes sure they have their chargers and their tickets while Kei checks to see if the AC is turned off and everything else is unplugged and that their sad little succulent tray garden’s soil is damp enough so that they can leave it alone for a week without having to call in the idiot brigade to wreck their apartment. The last time they asked Kuroo and Kenma to take care of their plants, things had ended up dead. Tadashi had wondered if they just didn’t have a green touch—Kei thinks that they just weren’t bothered to actually check on things.

They leave with enough time to grab something to eat on their way to the train station, and sit with their luggage on a bench, watching people and cherry blossoms swirl by.

“I’m a little nervous about going back so suddenly,” Tadashi confesses, licking a bit of the chocolate sauce that had dropped from his crepe off of his finger. “Especially since… dad’s side of the family never came around.”  

“Their loss,” Kei replies, leaning back against the bench, coffee cup warm in his hands. “If they focus on that when there are other things to be worried about, then they’re stupid.”

“True,” Tadashi murmurs. He crumples up the crepe wrapper in his fingers, trying to contain the sticky residue from it to the foil ball in his hands. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Kei answers. He stands from the bench and takes a last sip of his coffee before tossing it into a wire trashcan nearby. Tadashi rolls his eyes and scoffs a ‘showoff’ under his breath. Kei smirks over at him, raising his eyebrows as if daring Tadashi to try to best him.

Tadashi laughs and very purposefully strides over to the trashcan and drops the wrapper and his napkins in, shaking his head at the blond. “I’m not serving a wad of trash into a trashcan, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” he says, rubbing his hands together to make sure they’re not sticky. “We’re adults here, Tsukki.”

“ _And_? That was me, being an adult. Adults don’t litter,” Kei said with a shrug, picking up one of their suitcases. Tadashi shakes his head and snickers; he’s not going to let Kei goad him into a competition, which is part of the game itself. Sometimes he does, and they try to see who’s kept the most accuracy over the years with pillows and wads of clothes, and various other things. Sometimes Kei’ll block him, or will decide that it’s easier to throw off Tadashi’s aim by wrapping his arms around the brunet so he can’t move forward.

Tadashi picks up the rest of their luggage and they go to catch their train, bickering back and forth good-naturedly until they both fall silent, side by side, as the scenery flicks by their window. Sometime between Tokyo and Sendai, Tadashi falls asleep against Kei.

They arrive in Sendai a bit stiff from the train ride and anxious. Kei drives them to his home and lets his parents envelop them both in tight hugs. His mom was always good about fussing over Tadashi just as much as she fussed over Kei and Akiteru, so it’s no surprise when she starts clicking her tongue over Tadashi’s ponytail, which had grown out between visits.

“They let you keep it that long at the clinic?” she asks, smoothing her hand fondly against Tadashi’s cheek.

He laughs and nods, “Yes ma’am. They’ve… got other things they’re less happy about,” he says with a shrug. “As long as it’s out of the way when I work with the animals, they don’t care much.”

Kei steps in and puts an arm protectively around Tadashi’s waist before his mother can parse what Tadashi’s said. “Besides, I like it like this,” he says, giving the brunet’s hip a very slight squeeze. Tadashi leans against him tiredly as Kei continues. “We’re not here for you to try and get Tadashi a haircut.”

She nods, “I’m sorry to hear, by the way. …I found your suit, Tadashi-kun, but I think you must have packed the tie; I couldn’t find it.”

Kei smirks and Tadashi nearly chokes on his own tongue. They eat dinner with Kei’s parents, the embarrassed flush on Tadashi’s cheeks never quite fading. They answer questions about how life is in Tokyo and how school is going for the both of them and about work and how they’re getting by since their last visit. It seems so much like how it was when they were growing up that it’s almost bizarre to look and see the silver band on his finger and relate funny stories about Kei to Kei’s parents instead of the other way around. Visiting Miyagi always gives him a strange sort of nostalgia that’s almost like vertigo; he can recall how they were growing up so clearly that he starts to wonder if his life now is just a very fervid daydream, an image he made up for himself before he and Kei even started thinking about a life outside of their little home town, when all they wanted was to be able to be by the other's side.

He nearly believes it too, with the way that Kei’s mother kisses him on the cheek like she did when they were little and tells him to come and visit. He thinks he’s in his last few months of high school again, head over heels in love with Kei and wanting to spend every second with him, dreading going home to parents who hounded him about every decision he made, and urged him to break up with the blond for the sake of a future that Tadashi didn’t even want. It makes him want to sob with the idea of being separated from Kei for even a second; normally, he’s good about brushing away the unease and desperation disapproval fills him with, but he’s tired and nervous and it’s nearly suffocating. He wonders if the life he’s living with Kei, warm and relatively safe in Tokyo with their parents sending their blessings every day, is even real.  

He’s grounded by the feeling of Kei’s hand slipping into his own and squeezing firmly as he promises his family that they’ll visit as often as they can while they’re here, and that they’ll pass their regards to Tadashi’s parents. They walk out to the car in silence, settling in before Kei takes Tadashi’s hand again and kisses his knuckles.

“You looked like you wanted to cry,” Kei says quietly.

“I… I just thought for a moment, that… what if these past seven years haven’t been real. That we were back in high school before we realized we could stay together if we wanted to, that we could just… Go away together like we did. I thought we’d have to go home to our separate houses and separate beds like we used to. I couldn’t stand it.”

“You’re tired and upset,” the blond murmurs as he turns Tadashi’s hand over in his own so he could kiss the man’s wrist where his sweater sleeve rolled up. “It’s okay.”

Tadashi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He nods, and Kei lets him go. Tadashi drops his hand to Kei’s thigh, the blond giving a quiet hum of permission as he starts the car. “Do you know what the sleeping arrangements are going to be, if the family’s over?” the blond asks, raising an eyebrow. “Will we be kept away from each other so we don’t get up to anything depraved and perverted?”

“I assume you and I will be in my old room; I’m not sure if we’re sharing it or not—I’d wager on a very solid _no_ ,” Tadashi says thoughtfully, trying to ignore Kei's dark jab at his family. It took so long for Kei to come to forgive his parents that the bitterness is still fresh enough that he'll lash out at the slightest provocation, despite loving them just as much as Tadashi does. He must be nervous, Tadashi decides. “Normally when we have people over, families and married couples are grouped together in their own space, if room allows, so it’s not like we’d normally be sharing anyway.”

“We count as a married couple?” Kei asks with a leer as Tadashi raises his hand to flick the blond once against his knee.

“My mother figures we’re just as good, judging by our arguments and how long we’ve managed to live together without killing each other. She said we’ve weathered just as much as any true married couple has,” Tadashi says with a shrug as Kei just snorts in amusement.

“It’s good to know Sayaka-san has that much faith in us now,” Kei says with a snicker. Tadashi shrugs; even though Kei’s been calling his mother by her first name for a few years now, it’s still really weird to hear. He looks out the window, watching the familiar streets pass them by.

Coming home to visit always feels like going back in time now.  Nothing’s changed much—trees and gardens he remembers being planted are larger, there’s a few new houses, older houses now have children running around in their yards.  Tadashi continues, “There’s not that many people on dad’s side of the family. Grandpa died when we were in junior high, and grandmother’s in a nursing home in Sendai; a few of them live there, too, so they’ll probably just take the bus or something. There’s the husband’s family too, but mom says he was estranged from the rest of his family. She… didn’t sound like she liked them much.”

Kei nods once, and pulls into Tadashi’s old driveway. There are a few cars that they don’t recognize in the drive, and they park off to the side in case any of them need to leave later. They take their bags from the trunk, and Tadashi drapes his suit over his arm. He wishes he could slide his hand back into Kei’s; he hasn’t felt this nervous about coming home since he’d made the decision to come out to his parents in his third year. He’d been holding Kei’s hand then. He’d been holding Kei's hand even when they started shouting at him, their usual kind and patient tempers inflamed by Tadashi’s dual confessions: That he was gay and dating Kei, and that they were going to Tokyo together for college. Kei held his hand as he cried and as he led him to the safety of his own house, where his mother had patted his cheek and wiped away his tears and hugged him tight and treated him like another son. He’d held Kei’s hand when his mother had called during their sophomore year in undergrad, after seeing Tadashi in town on a visit to Kei’s family and cried and pleaded for him to forgive her.

Kei is his anchor, the firm pressure of his hand grounds him, and he needs grounding badly. 

He just doesn’t know what to expect; the funeral for his grandfather and the subsequent gathering of his family was a hazy memory for him, filled with anxiety and following his mother around because he didn’t really know anyone else, because his parents wouldn’t let Kei come to visit and he was too shy to play with his cousins. It was a dark and sticky memory, he thinks, and the apprehension is made even worse because he’d not really prepared any sort of explanation for _why_ Kei was here, if there’s actually anyone in the family who doesn’t already know (he’d be surprised if there was a single person who didn't already know). And then there’s the people who _do_ know, and he doesn’t know if they’ve been able to contain their ugly thoughts since the last time they’ve met—he doesn’t think they have. He hasn’t prepared himself at all. His head spins and his stomach churns. 

He rings the doorbell with his elbow, hands full with his things. Kei rolls his eyes as Tadashi nearly lets the suit fall from the crook of his arm; he reaches out and takes it from Tadashi, slinging the hanger over his shoulder and letting the material drape over his shoulders. “Be more careful,” he warns, hand warm against the small of Tadashi’s back.

Tadashi leans back into the touch as Kei slides his hand a bit further down and hooks his pinky into the brunet’s belt loop as they wait for someone to answer the door. They wait for a long moment until Tadashi starts to frown, “I wonder if we interrupted dinner,” he murmurs.

“Ever considerate us,” Kei replies. “I’m sure it’s my fault we did that,” he mutters, voice dark with sarcasm. Tadashi steps down on his foot and hisses at him to behave himself. 

The door opens and Tadashi’s mother peers out at them with a tired smile. Balanced against her hip is a dark-headed toddler, who’s in the midst of what Tadashi could only describe as a full-on meltdown. Her face is screwed up and red, plump cheeks damp with tears and she’s screaming something that sounds like ‘kaa-san’ over and over.

Tadashi feels his stomach turn over as he realizes the little girl must be Kana’s daughter. He’d not given too much thought about that little detail since his mother called, but now it was forefront in his mind and sinking with guilt. He absently wonders how many of his relatives had forgotten about her, too.

His mother catches the look on Tadashi’s face and gives a sad nod. She jiggles the toddler on her hip gently, turning to look at the little girl’s face. “Himawari-chan, this is Tadashi and Kei-kun, and they’ll be here to help take care of you too,” she murmurs gently to the bawling girl.

Tadashi swallows hard. Oh, _oh_ , her name was Himawari. He remembers Kana’s face and her wide grin as she handed him a sunflower as tall as he was, her hands smudged with dirt as she laughed. Her face scrunched up like his own did when he laughed, nose wrinkling and eyes crinkling. Kei’s hand presses a bit harder at his back; he was probably recalling Tadashi’s story of the girl who gave him sunflowers and sent him bouquets after a volleyball game.

“Hey there,” Tadashi murmurs. Himawari doesn’t stop crying, but instead pitches her voice louder. His mother winces slightly and continues to bounce the girl on her hip in an effort to soothe her. “I’ll take her,” he blurts out suddenly, not being able to bear the sight and sound of the girl’s loud sobbing anymore. He feels Kei start beside him; he wants to tell his lover that he’s just as surprised with himself as Kei is. He’s not sure why he’s volunteered to take the little girl from his mother—he just knows it’s breaking his heart to hear her cry like that and he feels bad for wanting, for a split second, for her to be quiet for the adults and for forgetting her in his haste to pack his things and come home. He wonders if that’s reason enough.

His mother’s face purses briefly, then relaxes in relief. “Well, let’s see if you can have any better luck,” she says. “Come in.”

They step inside and put their bags down in the hallway and toe their shoes off, placing them in the long line of shoes. Tadashi holds his hands out, and his mother passes Himawari into his arms.

She’s heavier than he expects, but he can lift dogs that weigh more than he does now, so it’s not like he can’t carry her. He holds her so she’s sitting in his arms, one hand steadying against her back. “Hi Himawari-chan,” he repeats quietly. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Kei giving him a strange look and he almost laughs at the open befuddlement on the blond’s face. It takes a lot to stun Kei, and it seems like Tadashi holding a toddler and cooing at them is shocking to Kei.

His mother is giving him a wary look, like she doesn’t trust her son around small, screaming children. But he handles kids all the time at the clinic, who see him in his scrubs and ask about their pets; sometimes he entertains them while Ono-sensei talks to their parents. He’s not really a natural with kids, but they seem to like him well enough, he supposes, and a lot of them come through the clinic, so he’s had a bit of practice. The trick is to be at their height and treat every word they say with importance. He’s never quite dealt with a tantrum of this size or gravity, though, so he’s not really sure what he should do, so he settles for continuing to talk to her in the same, calm and soft voice he uses in the clinic when a child tearily asks him if their pet will be okay. “I bet you’re lonely, is that right, Himawari-chan?”

What happens next is a shock to all parties involved—even Tadashi, who thought he’d have to coax for a little bit longer to get her to calm down. Himawari stops screaming and looks at him, tears still pouring down her cheeks. She reaches her hands out and presses them against Tadashi’s face, her pudgy fingers spread across the arcs of his cheeks where his freckles were darkest against his skin. “Kaa-san, Kaa-san,” she cries again, hiccupping as she smushes her hands against Tadashi’s face and reaches out to tug at his hair. “Kaa-san!” she repeats, a bit brighter.  She starts to laugh.

 “Oh dear,” Sayaka whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:  
> More flower symbolism, in which Himawari's name translates to "sunflower".  
> Fun note, I was about twenty or so pages into the draft before I decided to give Yamaguchi's parents names.


	3. And in the Middle of the Night

Out of all the things that Tadashi possibly expected to happen when he came back to his childhood home for a funeral, a toddler mistaking him for their mother was not one of these things. Relatives being rude to him? Yep, most definitely expected. His parents being distinctly uncomfortable with said relatives because once, they’d said the exact same things to him and Kei? He knew it was a distinct possibility. This, though... 

Himawari beams up at Tadashi, fingers wound tightly into his bangs. “Kaa-san.”

He looks over at Kei; his face is scrunched into an unsettled grimace and his hands are clasped tightly in front of him. Tadashi looks at his mother, whose face is white and her eyes a bit wide. They’re both shocked; he doesn’t blame them—he is too.  

Tadashi’s torn between being absolutely horrified for being mistaken for Himawari’s mother and being pleased that she’d managed to calm down a bit. He settles for mostly horrified, because he _isn’t_ her mother, and she’s far too young to understand that her real mother isn’t going to come back. He already dreads having to let go of the little girl and separating her from who she thinks is her mother. He doesn’t have the heart to make her cry or the strength to deal with it if she does.

Himawari unwinds her hands from his hair and tucks herself against Tadashi’s neck. She brings her hands down, fingers of one curling firmly into his sweater, her hair tickling his chin. “Um, Himawari-chan, I’m not…” he starts quietly, but stops. He can already feel her relaxing into him, and it’s probably not going to be long before she falls asleep on him, he thinks. He knows how exhausting it is to be hysterically upset as an adult, and he remembers how it is as a child too; he decides it’s best to let her sleep. They’ll deal with his mistaken identity later. Maybe his mother will know what to do; he fervently hopes she does. 

He adjusts her in his arms slightly, and she wraps her other arm tightly around his neck, her knees digging into his chest. “Did we interrupt dinner or anything?” he asks his mother, looking up from the toddler.

She shakes her head and tears her eyes away from Himawari; “We ate earlier. Right now, your dad and the others are in town to pick up some other members of the family. Your father’s already put her picture in with your grandfather’s in the shrine,” she says softly. “Over here.”

She leads them into the living room, where the evidence of a large gathering is still littered. There are extra blankets on the sofa, where someone is probably sleeping; extra chairs have been filched from other rooms and even their outdoor patio furniture is set up in some places. Tissue boxes and flower arrangements litter the shelves, and near the far corner where their family shrine is housed, there are several bunches of chrysanthemums. The room smells like a mixture of flowers, stranger’s perfume, and incense.

Tadashi moves over to the corner, Kei following after him with an almost uncharacteristic hesitance. Tadashi isn’t sure if Kei’s just uncomfortable because of the prospect of so many new people at once, because it’s his first large event as a ‘member’ of the Yamaguchi family (he hadn’t been present at the reunion that had ended in screaming fits, thankfully; Tadashi hadn’t let him come since he didn’t want to press his parents newfound acceptance of their relationship, and he's still glad he made that choice even though Kei is of a different opinon), or because of the drowsy toddler nuzzling into his collar. Maybe it’s all three. He turns his head when Kei settles beside him and leans up onto his toes to kiss the blond’s cheek since his hands aren’t free for holding. He watches a blush bloom across Kei’s face, a tale-tell sign that Kei definitely feels like he’s out of his depth here; Tadashi feels a bit guilty and wonders if he should have come alone at first and left Kei with his family until things settled down here.

“You two _do_ look alike,” Kei mumbles as he clasps his hands tightly in front of him. “It’s weird.”

“It’s called _genetics_ , Tsukki,” Tadashi scolds softly, staring down at the photograph of his cousin. It’s a picture of just her, and she’s grinning mischievously at the camera like the person taking the picture had just said something both terrible and amusing; he wonders if it’s her husband behind the camera, or a friend. “We look like dad’s side of the family.”

Her face is thinner than he remembers from his childhood, but the roundness of her cheeks is the same as Tadashi’s, his father’s, and his aunt’s; the way her eyes turn up is similar too. She has more freckles, though, and her skin is darker, like she spent a lot of time outdoors. He wonders if it was for a hobby or for work. Her hair is short, and brushes just barely against her shoulders, a few flyaway pieces sticking out from the inward curl at the tips. He can see, easily, how they are related and how a young, distraught toddler could mistake him for her, even though their eyes are very different shapes and shades of brown, her hair is a pure black, and their carriage could not be more different.

Beside Kana’s picture is one of her husband. Tadashi never met him, but he thinks he’d like him; he had a warm, open sort of smile and bright eyes.

It’s so terribly sad that they’re both gone. That Tadashi never got to know them better and only remembers bits and pieces about the girl who’d tried to cheer him up and came to cheer for him during a lunch break on a business trip. That Himawari won’t be able to know them anymore, won’t be raised by her own parents, and won’t remember them as anything but a warm presence early in her life and an ache when she thinks about it. He drops his head slightly so he can rest his cheek against her hair, giving her a very soft squeeze. She snuggles in deeper against him, small arm tight around the back of his neck and fingers clenched in his sweater still.

He turns away from the shrine and moves to where his mother is standing. “How’s dad?” he asks softly.

His mother shrugs, “He says he’s fine, but you know how he is. He and your aunts and uncle are working out most of the details. He’s been quiet. It’s a hard thing to process, I think. It’s not hit him yet, not really.”

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi murmurs. “Just let me know what I can do to help out.”

“Well, like I said on the phone, we need help to watch after Himawari-chan. I’m afraid none of us are back in the swing of taking care of such a young child—Kana was the only one of your cousins with a child,” she says with a small, sheepish laugh. “So if she continues to be taken with you, it would be a big help if you and Kei-kun took care of her while we try to figure out what’s going to happen.”

“Yeah, we can do that, can’t we, Tsukki?” Tadashi agrees, looking over at Kei.

Kei shrugs, “If that’s helpful, I guess.” He regards Sayaka carefully, like he’s expecting reproach from her. 

Tadashi’s mother smiles at them. “It won’t be all the time, so you two are free to go visit your old classmates while you’re here; go ahead and make the most of the trip here while you can,” she says. “And you said you both had work to do too, so just let me know when you need to work on it, and I’ll find someone to take her off your hands.”

“That sounds doable,” Tadashi answers as he carefully shifts Himawari’s weight in his arms. She’s nearly boneless against him, and her face is pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. He can feel her breathing growing slower, and closer to sleep. He drops his voice a little and asks, “What’re the sleeping arrangements like?”

“Well,” Sayaka murmurs, cheeks flushing. Tadashi looks away from her; it's hard to see his mother so unsure and careful around him. She sighs. “You two will be in your old room, of course. The rest of us will squeeze in where we can fit. We had to switch some people around since… some of your older cousins don’t… well, you two…” She pauses hesitantly. “You two, are… well. It’s…”

Kei sighs, and shifts just a little closer to Tadashi. “If it’s too much of an inconvenience,” he says, voice tight. Tadashi swallows hard, hearing the effort Kei’s putting forward to keep from saying something awful. “ _We_ can stay with _my_ family for the trip.”

Tadashi almost gapes at the unspoken, but very audible and very hostile ‘because _they_ can accommodate us just fine’ in his words. Sayaka blinks, then smiles, looking rather amused by Kei’s bristling retort.  

“No,” Tadashi’s mother says firmly. “No, we put our foot down. We want you two here, and I told them that, and that if they disliked it, they could find a hotel to sleep in, since Tadashi is my son, and you two are either here together, or not at all. You two are in Tadashi’s room, and the rest of the family can deal with being in tight quarters.”

“Thanks,” Tadashi murmurs. As much as the memories of the two years spent estranged from his parents still hurts, Tadashi is ever-grateful for his parents’ support when it comes to things like this. The last thing his family needs is Kei’s temper right now; he thinks his mother is aware of this, and he's glad she stood her ground. 

“While we’re on that subject, though,” his mother adds, voice tentative; “We’re making a trip to the nursing home to visit your grandmother, Tadashi. Do you want to come?”

He looks over at Kei, who’s looking at him strangely; Tadashi can’t quite read the look, which is fairly odd, but his lips are pressed into a careful line, jaw tight. He smiles at the blond, and gives a small chuckle at the obvious effort Kei’s putting forward to _not_ say anything.

“I don’t know, mom,” Tadashi says slowly. He gently nudges Kei’s hip with his own, getting his lover to loosen up a bit. “Does she still vehemently deny Tsukki’s entire existence, and carry a folder full of marriage candidates for me?”

“Well,” Tadashi’s mother sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I… I suppose she does.”

“Then, no,” both Tadashi and Kei say at the same time. Kei looks at Tadashi and smirks as Tadashi sniggers. 

Sayaka shakes her head. “You two are just as bad as you were as children,” she says, almost wistfully. She eyes Himawari carefully. “I think she’s about to go to sleep on you.”

“I think she already has, actually,” Tadashi chuckles. There’s a damp spot on the collar of his shirt, and he’s fairly certain it’s because the toddler is drooling on him, and not from her earlier tears.

“Well, thank goodness for small blessings,” his mother murmurs. “Come on, I’ll help you put her to bed.”

“Tsukki, can you take our things up to our room?” Tadashi asks as he follows his mother out of the room. “I’ll go put her to bed and we can get settled.”

Kei waves dismissively at him before disappearing off into the entryway. Tadashi hesitates for a moment, rather unwilling to leave an uncomfortable and bristly Kei out in the open with family members who probably won’t be too kind to him, but Kei can handle himself, and when it comes to it, he can hold his tongue when he needs to these days. He trusts that his lover won’t make too much of a scene. And in any case, Himawari is heavy in his arms, and he thinks it’s probably uncomfortable to sleep like she is, so he moves upstairs with his mother.

“We’ve set her up in our room,” his mother says, pushing open the door. There’s a crib set into the corner of his parent’s room, and there’s an air mattress with a girl about his age, maybe a bit younger, lying on her stomach on her computer. It’s one of his cousins; she’s not actually related to him, if he can remember correctly, but her mother married… his uncle, Tadashi recalls—the one who actually _likes_ Kei, which is kind of hilarious when he thinks about it, because this girl obviously doesn’t like him and probably doesn’t like Kei either. He smiles at her in what he hopes is a friendly enough manner.

“Oh, good, _someone_ managed to get her to be quiet,” she says, glaring up at Tadashi and Himawari. His mother sighs, and Tadashi is much reminded of how Kei looks when he’s holding back. Huh. “No one could sleep last night because she was screaming.”

Tadashi swallows heavily and looks over at his mother before murmuring, almost to himself; “Well, I would be upset too, if I thought my mother is coming back, but she doesn’t.”

He’s given a withering look and Tadashi remembers with absolute certainty why they tend not to associate with this side of the family much. It’s not just because they lived farther away than what was easily traveled—or even because they didn’t approve of Tadashi and Kei’s relationship and show no signs of relenting—they just… weren’t very thoughtful of others, Tadashi thinks quietly, almost ashamed that he’s thinking of his own family like that. He knows his mother often thinks the same thing; it’s not that his father’s siblings aren’t kind, it’s just that their children… Well. It’s not really his place to comment on it. 

He turns his eyes from his cousin to his mother, who _does_ look like she’s spent a sleepless night with Himawari, who’s sleeping so sweetly on his shoulder that Tadashi can’t believe no one has been able to keep her calm.

“That’s not exactly true,” his mother supplies. “She slept a bit fitfully, yes… But it’s only natural for a child in a new place to sleep badly when they’re upset. It’s hard to keep her distracted from wanting her parents at night. During the daytime, it’s easier.”  

“Well, if it’s okay with you, mom, there’s room with me and Kei,” he says slowly, “If you want to move Himawari in with us. My luck with her might hold out, and I could keep her from another meltdown. And you could have more space in here, maybe sleep a little better.”  

“Are you sure? Do you think Kei-kun would be alright with that?” his mother asks hesitantly.

“Ah, yeah, I don’t think he’d mind,” Tadashi answers, shifting on his feet. He doesn’t really know, but he’s pretty sure he can talk Kei into it anyway.

“Sayaka-obaasan, is it really smart to put a toddler in with _them_? Who _knows_ what they get up to at night,” his cousin asks, sneering up at Tadashi with such a salacious expression that he can feel his face heat up with embarrassment and anger.

“Excuse _you_ ,” he says sharply before his mother had time to intervene. He’s suddenly very glad that Kei’s elsewhere in the house. “One: that was very rude, especially when I’m offering a favor after you complained about being kept awake by a child who can’t help being upset, and two: just because _you_ wouldn’t be able to keep it in _your_ pants doesn’t mean _we_ can’t. So I would appreciate it if you kept your mouth _shut._ ”

His mother’s mouth falls open in shock, and the girl’s just as red as Tadashi’s face feels. In fact, he can feel his ears burn. Himawari stirs against him fitfully at the sudden rise in his voice and tension in his shoulders. He smooths his thumb against her shoulders; he feels a bit guilty over losing his temper while she slept against him, but in the end, he thinks it’s worth the absolutely flabbergasted and mortified look on the girl’s face.

He turns on his heel and silently heads to his old room. The door’s already open, and when he steps in, he sees that Kei’s already moved their things up, and is in the process of setting his laptop up at the old desk in the corner.

Kei looks up and scowls, noting Tadashi’s red face, perturbed expression, and the fact that the brunet still has Himawari still firmly latched around his neck. “Problems?” he asks dryly.

Tadashi grimaces and moves to his bed. He sits down carefully, still cradling the toddler in his arms. “More or less,” he sighs. “I just… _ugh_.”

Kei comes and sits beside Tadashi, raising an eyebrow up at the other man. “Not a valid response,” he murmurs.

“Um, I offered to let Himawari sleep with us and one of the younger cousins got snippy about it,” Tadashi mutters. “So… I uh, got snippy back? And mom’s probably going to come in and yell about it?”

“I wouldn’t yell at you for defending yourself, Tadashi,” Sayaka sighs from the doorway. She rubs her temples idly, “In fact, I’m a little impressed. It seems more of Kei-kun’s rubbed off on you than I thought these past few years.”

Kei looks at Tadashi’s mother, then back at Tadashi, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in amusement, “What did you _say_?”

“Uh… I _might_ have insinuated that she’s loose in bed?”

Kei snickers loudly, and then breaks into peals of loud laughter, covering his mouth to quiet himself. Tadashi grins sheepishly; ducking his head aside as the blond continues to laugh, bracing himself against his knees. Tadashi’s mother watches, her face slowly relaxing into a tentatively fond smile. 

“That aside,” she says once Kei’s finished laughing, “You don’t have to take Himawari-chan just because you feel the need to one-up your cousins.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t offer because of that,” Tadashi says quickly. “It’s just, you do look tired, and you’ve been watching after her for, what, two days now? I just… I kind of thought you should get a break,” he continues, giving a slight shrug.

“Tadashi, that’s sweet, but do you even really know how to take care of a toddler?”

“Um…” Kei snickers beside Tadashi, and Tadashi elbows him in the side. “Not really? I could probably learn?”

His mother sighs, “Well, that’s more than I’m getting out of your cousins, and the older ones are in no real shape to help out right now, so, I’m probably inviting disaster, but okay.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, as always, mom,” Tadashi sighs, looking down to ignore the flash of pain across his mother’s face. That probably sounded a little harsher than he had meant it to be, but he leaves it hanging in the air because it’s not his fault she's sensitive about these things now; Kei has taught him to be ruthless when he needs to be. Himawari clutches at his sweater a bit more tightly and whimpers in her sleep. He reaches up and gently slides his hand against her back. “I mean, she’s asleep, more or less? How bad could it be?”

“Famous last words, Tadashi. …but, it looks like I’d need a crowbar to get her off of you,” his mother retorts. “Alright. Keep still and I’ll move her crib in here; if she wakes up fussy, come get me. She’s not old enough to be potty trained yet, and there’s no way you’ll learn how to change a baby at 3AM. I’m not that hopeful.”     

Kei starts laughing again, like the idea of Tadashi trying to change Himawari in the dark is the most hilarious thing in the world. Tadashi thinks he must be so highly strung that he’s got borderline hysterics, because he doesn’t find it amusing in the slightest. He’s about ten seconds from stepping on Kei’s foot, _hard_. “Hey, I’m about to make _you_ learn,” he mutters at the blond.

Kei’s answering silence is almost as gratifying as stomping on his foot would be. Tadashi’s mother leaves, chuckling as she goes to fetch Himawari’s things.

Kei slides back onto the bed so he can lean against Tadashi’s back, chin on the brunet’s free shoulder. “You’re not taking her because you feel the need to be some good son, right?” he asks. He braces one of his hands on Tadashi’s hip, studying the toddler carefully.

“You sound like my mother,” Tadashi sighs.

“For a good reason, we’ve both taken care of you long enought to know how likely you are to wear yourself out to please other people, especially these people,” Kei mutters. “I... _we_... worry you’ll do that, you know. You don’t have to prove anything to them. Not even to your parents; you never did.”

“I won’t wear myself out,” the brunet protests softly. Kei squeezes his fingers against the slighter man. Tadashi makes a noise that sounds almost like a whine in the back of his throat. “Okay, _fine_ ,” he concedes. “I like it best when I feel useful, so I can make up for being a bad son, _okay_? But mom really _does_ need help, and we’re not much help otherwise. And, it’s just… she’s so cute,” he says helplessly.

“She’s not some kitten you can take home from work, Tadashi,” Kei says as firmly as he can without sounding like he’s scolding Tadashi too badly. He isn't quite sure if he can disagree with Tadashi though: He’s never had any sort of fondness for children other than to be dutiful when pictures were shown in public and to send thanks up for the quiet ones in the stores.

Occasionally, there would be a kid he would think was cute, usually one of his colleague’s or one that Tadashi points out in the store, but other than that he’s never thought about children other than the fact that, yes, small children exist. He thinks Himawari is cute, sure, especially with how she’s curled up against Tadashi and Tadashi has her cradled up against his chest.  The family resemblance is strong between them:  same tan skin with freckles and dark hair that curls against her forehead. It’s a surprisingly nice sight, and he can’t help but think that the little girl _is_ sweet-looking, and be fond of the way she’s cuddled herself up to Tadashi. 

Actually… It’s probably Tadashi, really, that he thinks is cute and is fond of. Probably. But, either way, it’s not fair to the little girl for them to get attached, only to leave at the end of the week. They’re only temporary help here, and the chances of them seeing her after this week are very low considering how infrequently this side of Tadashi’s family gets together and how infrequently they both come from Tokyo to visit these days. Impossibly low, once he figures in the fact that most of Tadashi’s extended family is technically estranged, due to their feelings about his and Tadashi’s lifestyle. 

“I know that,” Tadashi huffs. “I _know_. And once everyone comes back, maybe there’ll be more people around to help and it won’t just be us, but…”

“But you feel bad for her,” Kei finishes. Tadashi sighs and leans back into the press of Kei’s warmth against his spine, feeling dozy. “Feeling bad won’t do anything, not really.”

“I know.”

“And you’re _not_ her mother.”

“I _know_.”

Despite Kei’s misgivings, they set Himawari up in their room, and Tadashi’s mother teaches them the basics of what they need to know to help take care of a toddler. Most of the instructions are actually to go get her, but Tadashi’s pretty certain they can handle it. They also agree that tomorrow is probably the best time to address the fact that Tadashi is not Kana—Tadashi and Kei won’t be as tired and Himawari will have had a full night’s rest and time to adjust to their presence.

Tadashi tucks her into her crib and then flops out on his bed, spreading himself out across the sheets. Kei’s occupied with starting his file for work, and Tadashi wants to stay up to greet his father when he returns from town, but he’s not sure if he can really do it. Traveling, for some reason, always exhausts him; Kei teases him about it, _always_ , and calls him a little kid.

He lets his eyes close and he promises himself it’ll be just a brief cat nap. When he wakes up, the room is dark except for the glow of Kei’s laptop. The hall outside their cracked door is dark too, and the house is quiet except for a quiet murmuring he recognizes as Kei’s voice.

He sits up, feeling disoriented. It’s not waking up in his old room instead of his and Kei’s tiny apartment that’s jarring: He knows he’s at home, and he feels the relatively grimy feeling that comes from crashing hard in his clothes; his hair’s falling in his face and against his neck, his elastic band long gone somewhere into the sheets, and the collar of his shirt is too tight against his neck from how he rolls around in his sleep. No, it’s what he sees that’s causing the feeling:

Kei’s standing in front of Himawari’s crib, his back mostly to Tadashi, the girl settled firmly against his hip and he’s looking down and talking to her quietly. He can’t tell about what yet; he’s not that awake, and Kei’s using the same private whisper that he uses with Tadashi, the kind that no one else is supposed to hear, and he has a stupidly endearing expression on his face that Tadashi’s brain is telling him is actually Kei’s 'this is awkward as hell' face, but his sleep-addled heart is gone entirely.

Kei could be talking about the weather, for all Tadashi could know and care. But Himawari is looking up at him raptly, balanced on Kei’s hip like she belongs there with him in his ratty tee-shirt and flannel pajama pants and Tadashi can’t stand it anymore and breaks the silence before he gets any ridiculous ideas into his head. “Tsukki?” he asks sleepily.

Kei turns and gives Tadashi a smirk. He looks down at the little girl and blinks down at her, “Look who’s up. Tadashi’s up,” he says, hoisting her up off of his hip. “Ta-da-shi. Can you say that?”

“Up,” Himawari says happily, then wiggles her arms. Kei rolls his eyes and lifts her higher, until she’s about level with his shoulders, hands under her arms. Tadashi’s not really sure if carrying her like that is the best thing ever, but she seems to enjoy it. “Hey, this thing wants you,” he says as he carries her over to Tadashi and deposits her into his lap.

“She’s not a _thing_ ,” he scolds, trying hard not to laugh. Tadashi puts his arms around her so she can’t squirm her way out of his lap; she’s more than happy to settle against his stomach and cling onto his sweater. “What’re you doing up?” he murmurs to the both of them. He only really expects Kei to answer, but he beams at Himawari’s query of ‘up?’.

“She woke up fussy,” Kei said with a shrug. “I was still working on my files, so I didn’t bother getting you up. I got your mom, and she changed her for me. I’ve been trying to talk her back into going to sleep for a few minutes now.”

“I was joking about you having to change her at three AM,” Tadashi murmured.

“It’s not three,” Kei says with a shrug. Himawari snuggles against Tadashi’s stomach, blinking wide-eyed up at Kei, very obviously enraptured by him. “It’s… I don’t know, one? You crashed hard; there’s no point in trying to wake you up when you’re like that, so I didn’t bother. Your dad understands, by the way. We sat and talked.”

“Oh? What about?” Tadashi asks, reaching up to rub at his eyes with one hand, trying hard not to yawn. Kei gives one of his fond half-smiles and runs a hand through Tadashi’s messy hair.

“The usual thing,” Kei says. The usual thing is Tokyo, school, and work; it’s also his father trying to make sure Kei’s treating Tadashi right, and is generally a very embarrassing, very awkward affair. It's less so now than it was when they sat down the first time after Tadashi and his parents had reconciled, but it still makes Tadashi squirm about in his seat and want to scream that it’s none of his parents’ business what he and Kei do or fight about. But he also recognizes that it’s them trying to make amends, to understand them, so he never does, and Kei is always surprisingly patient during these sessions. “He also wanted to know if we ever thought about visiting more.”

Kei chuckles as Tadashi wrinkles his nose at the answer. He leans forward and starts to lift Himawari out of Tadashi’s lap. She gives a sleepy protest, fingers still clutching at Tadashi’s sweater. Tadashi’s tempted to stand and follow, very unwilling to part with her, but Kei simply waits until she untangles her fingers herself and murmurs to her, “It’s time to sleep again. Tadashi wants to sleep too. _I_ want to sleep. You’re sleepy, right? After you sleep, you can play with Tadashi.”

Tadashi isn’t sure where Kei’s picked up this soothing, repetitive voice that’s even putting him back to sleep. He can see Himawari blink fuzzily up at him, and she gives a yawn. Kei smirks like he’s far too pleased with himself that she’s starting to get sleepy, and puts her back into her crib. He waits until she’s settled, then turns and sighs, falling onto the bed. “God, children are unholy terrors,” he mutters into the sheets.

Tadashi laughs at this, because it doesn’t really sound like he very much means it. “Where’d you learn to talk to kids?” he asked.

“Stupid home videos,” Kei says darkly, kicking the sheets down as he rolls onto his back. “Niisan did stuff like that on them. I didn’t think it would work.”

“I’m going to call Aki-nii and tell him he was useful.”

“ _No._ ”

Tadashi snickers to himself as he rummages through their luggage for his pajamas and toothbrush. In the end, he can’t really find his set of pajamas even though he could have sworn they packed them near the bag with the toiletries, so he settles for grabbing a pair of Kei’s gym shorts and the first tee-shirt he can put his hands on. He closes Kei’s laptop on the way out of the room, opting to just change in the bathroom so he can brush his teeth and use the bathroom after he changes. On his way out, he reaches down into Himawari’s crib to brush her hair out of her eyes, pleased to see she was already asleep.  

He comes back, room dark except for the lights of their charging phones. He reaches to flip them over out of habit before remembering that his mother had told them that Himawari didn’t like the dark. He’s surprised that Kei remembered; he’s not sure if the blond is going out of his way to accommodate the toddler because he likes her, or because Tadashi likes her. Or maybe it’s both, because Kei’s not nearly as much as an apathetic hardass as he tries to be.

He slides into bed and is instantly rewarded with Kei’s arms around his waist and his mouth at his neck. “Those are _my_ shorts,” he hisses playfully.

Tadashi squirms against him, trying not to laugh as Kei presses a series of light kisses against his collar. He slides his hands forward in the dark, finding Kei’s glasses and lifting them gently off of the blond’s face. He puts them aside and cups his hands against the other man’s face and pressed his forehead to his lover’s. “Thank you for humoring me,” he murmurs.

“I try,” Kei replies. Tadashi huffs at him, and Kei smirks.

“No, _really_ ,” he whispers, like they’re seventeen again and trying not to wake up their teammates during training camps because they _had_ to talk to each other, knees touching as they curled across from each other in  their futons. “Thank you; you’ve never had to put up with any of this, not really. But you do.”

He continues when Kei just blinks at him, face impassive, like he’s trying to come up with something to say. “You didn’t have to go out of your way to come support the parts of my family that don’t like you, or how I put us out because I want to be helpful—like, you didn’t have to take care of Himawari-chan on your own just now. I know you don’t really like kids.”

“I don’t dislike them, I guess,” Kei hums. “…she’s not terrible.”

“She’s not two yet, thank god,” Tadashi retorts. Kei laughs at this, a sound that’s more of a breath against Tadashi’s ear than Kei’s voice and it makes Tadashi feel warm and happy and just overwhelmingly in love with the blond. “ _Kei_ ,” he says, a bit desperately, “Really. There’s so much that I don’t think I could do without you.”

“You could,” Kei says quietly, “If you had to. You’ve done it before.”

Tadashi curls his fingers against the curve of Kei’s jaw and brings him forward for a tender kiss. “Yeah, but sometimes I don’t _want_ to, you know?” he murmurs. “There’s stuff that knowing you’re going to be there makes easier, stuff I couldn’t put up with on my own. So thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for things I would do anyway,” Kei mutters, reaching up to thread his fingers through Tadashi’s hair, cupping his hand against the back of the brunet’s head. He tips his head back and pushes Tadashi forward against his chest, tucking his chin against Tadashi’s hair. “So go to sleep.”

Tadashi wriggles himself a bit, adjusting to the change in positions, nearly elbowing Kei in the face to get his arms down and comfortable around Kei’s waist. He thinks they fall asleep around the same time, because his last thought are of how loose and soft Kei’s arm is wrapped over him and how warm it is with the slow in-out-in-out rhythm of the other’s breath against his ear is.


	4. Let It All Slow

 When Kei wakes, it’s to the sound of high-pitched cries and a warm, empty spot beside him. He throws his arm over his eyes and groans. He can hear Tadashi over the crying, voice low and sleepy. There’s the creak of the door, and the crying decreases in volume. He lies on his back for a moment, arm still slung over his eyes, before he makes another sound in the back of his throat that Tadashi’s not there to tease him for, and rolls over to look at the time.

Seven. Well, not _too_ bad. He can probably roll back over and sleep more if he wanted to, but when he does, the bed feels vast without Tadashi there to press up into and steal warmth from. Which is ridiculous, because this bed barely fits the both of them now that they’re grown up (they won’t ever complain, it’s nearly a miracle that they’re even allowed to be here like this now; it’s not like they don’t sleep  huddled up together in Tokyo anyway). He sighs and waits for Tadashi to come back.

He doesn’t. He can hear Tadashi walking up and down the hallway, though, with his mother and Himawari, whose cries have decreased a level into just whimpers. He lets himself drift off, and then hears Tadashi again with his father, and now a quiet, gurgling laugh that he doesn’t recognize but is still probably the toddler’s. He’s not sure how much time has passed between the two events—enough time to get Himawari to stop fussing, but not long enough for Kei to really feel like he went to sleep again.

Kei groans and resigns himself to either sleeping another fitful hour or two without Tadashi’s sleepy snuggles or waking up and being chilly until he can find a sweater. He chooses the latter; he rolls over, puts his glasses on, checks the time (half-past eight,  _it doesn’t feel like an hour and a half’s gone ugh,_ he thinks), and goes to rummage for his sweater before heading to the bathroom. He makes himself somewhat presentable and starts downstairs. In the living room, there’s a myriad of people in various states of dress and alertness; the more awake ones are dressed impeccably and sipping coffee. Their eyes follow him warily, lips pursed against their cups. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, not awake enough to muster up a glare and the urge to give a passing fuck about what they think about his state of dress or what they think of  what he gets up to with Tadashi when they’re alone.

He moves into the kitchen where the air is warmer and friendlier. Tadashi’s at the counter, pouring out two cups of coffee. Kei can tell by the way he’s pouring one of them, until it’s just half full with coffee, that the brunet is making one for him, carton of milk sitting nearby. This wakes him up more than the coffee would, and he smiles despite himself.

He sidles up behind Tadashi, only barely resisting the urge to put his hands on the man’s waist and kiss the nape of his neck, where his hair is pulled into a messy knot; as much as he wants to, and as routine as it is, he knows it’s probably not appropriate for the setting. Instead he reaches up and gently taps his lover’s shoulder. “Tadashi,” he says softly.

“Good morning, Tsukki,” Tadashi says fondly, “I was wondering when you’d wander out.”

“Not wandering,” Kei grumbles, reaching around Tadashi for the milk. He pours it into his own cup before splashing some into Tadashi’s mug as well. He caps it, grabs his coffee, and moves to go put the milk back into the refrigerator.

“If you say so,” Tadashi chuckles with a shrug. He picks up the coffee pot and turns towards the rest of his family, “There’s still some left over, does anyone want anymore? Dad?”

“Ah, yeah, thanks,” Tadashi’s father says, looking up from the newspaper. He looks just as haggard as he did the night before, Kei thinks. His tone is lighter, though, so that’s good. Kei moves to sit at the kitchen table, nodding amicably at Tadashi’s father and murmuring a cordial ‘hello’ to Tadashi’s uncle, who has a very tentative fondness for Kei. He tries his best to be polite to him every time they meet (this will be the third time), because he thinks making strategic allies within Tadashi’s extended family is for the best, in the long run.

Tadashi comes and pours out the rest of the coffee before settling down next to Kei at the table, pulling two plates out of the pile on the table. “It’s pretty much serve yourself for breakfast. Mom made all this, but not everyone’s awake and she wanted to go ahead and give Himawari-chan her bath for the day,” he explained, starting to serve out food from the plates on the table. There are western foods like toast and eggs, but there’s also rice in the pressure cooker, and miso simmering on the stove. Tadashi puts toast and a few pieces of sausage down on Kei’s plate and pushes a jar of strawberry jam at him, knowing the blond’s preference for western foods in the morning, if he eats at all. Kei takes the jam gratefully and starts scooping it out for his toast with a knife that Tadashi’s father slid his way.

“You two seem good,” Tadashi’s father comments. “Just as close as ever.”

The uncle laughs, “Your son mother hens him, that’s what, Hiro. Worse than a couple on their honeymoon.”

Tadashi turns pink and coughs a bit on his coffee, obviously not expecting the genial statement. Kei reaches out and thumps him on the back, mostly for dramatic effect because he knows familial teasing when he hears it—he  _did_ grow up with a brother, after all—and lets the two older men have their fun ribbing them.

A couple of the teasing questions thrown their way actually make  _Kei_ blush; it’s nothing overly intrusive or impolite, just a few casual, thrown out there things that make them both squirm with youthful embarrassment and sheepish acquiescence. Kei’s just never been good with people pointing out how much he dotes on Tadashi. He’s actually pretty surprised that they’re being so laid back about the entire affair, honestly. It takes him a bit off of his guard.

Tadashi’s father notes both of their pink faces and furtive side-eyed glances at each other and snorts. “Tadashi you look like you did when you got caught sneaking candy as a kid. I don’t think you should feel guilty for it,” he says softly. He casts a look over his shoulder as his wife steps into the room, a happy and freshly-bathed Himawari balanced at her hip. “You should always enjoy and treasure it; since it’s never assured it’ll continue.”

“Dad,” Tadashi mumbles sadly, looking between his parents. He’s so thankful for the fact his parents recognize that there’s nothing wrong with how he is. But he feels helpless when he sees them upset; he’s not really sure how to comfort them, especially since his father was a lot closer to Kana than he was. Kei slides a hand against his thigh under the table, and he reaches down so he can wind their fingers together. If he feels helpless, Tadashi can’t even really imagine how Kei must feel; he wonders if the blond feels like he’s intruding, the way that Tadashi felt like he was intruding during that awkward time when Kei and Akiteru were making up with each other.

The room is quiet for a long moment, but the heavy air is broken by Himawari nearly wiggling out of Sayaka’s arms. Tadashi’s mother places her down on the floor, and Himawari beams and immediately rushes over to Hiro and latches onto his leg. “Up, up, up,” she chants happily.

Tadashi laughs, remembering her requests from late last night. His father scoops Himawari up into his arms, and tickles her. “But you just were up!” he tells her. She tries to climb him, and he helps her onto his shoulders.

“Up!”

“Well, if you insist!” Hiro chuckles and stands slowly, holding onto her as she fists her fingers into his hair. “I’m going to go see where she steers me.”

Tadashi laughs happily, glad to see that his father wasn’t so upset anymore and that Himawari was far more settled than she was when they arrived.

“A good night’s sleep was good for her,” Sayaka comments softly, moving forward to put her hands on Tadashi and Kei’s shoulders. “You two are just far enough removed from all this that she can’t really pick up on your distress, so thank you for calming her.”

“I really didn’t do anything,” Kei mutters while Tadashi stammers something very similar. Tadashi’s uncle chuckles at them from behind his coffee mug.

“So boys, what are you going to do today?” she asks them, moving to pour herself a cup of tea.

“Aren’t you all going up to Sendai to visit grandmother?” Tadashi recalls, “I suppose we’ll go and see if anyone from school is free. Hitoka-chan probably is,” he murmurs thoughtfully, glancing over at Kei.

Kei shrugs in reply, “I could send her a message to see,” he offers.

Tadashi nods, and idly taps his coffee mug with his fingers. He can hear Himawari laughing and turns his gaze to his mother, “Ah… are you taking Himawari-chan?”

Sayaka pauses and purses her lips. His uncle clears his throat awkwardly. “No, we… her grandmother called last night, after you fell asleep, and she would prefer if… she didn’t see Himawari-chan. She’ll be staying at a hotel in town so she doesn’t have to stay here.”

Even Kei scowls at this tidbit of information; Tadashi feels like he’s swallowed ice. He knows his aunt isn’t a cruel person, or even particularly cold-hearted. She’s sent cards to Tokyo for New Years every year since he’s moved; Kei’s even received his own, even after he’d confessed to his extended family that he and Kei were living together as lovers rather than friends. It’s unthinkable that she wouldn’t want to see Himawari at all, especially since the toddler is the last direct connection to her daughter’s life.

“So… who’s watching her?” Tadashi asks softly.

Sayaka makes a rather helpless gesture with her hands. “I thought I would stay here and watch her,” she says.

“Mother won’t like that very much, Saya-chan,” Tadashi’s uncle mutters with a sigh. “She’ll get angry.”

“Well, she’ll deal with it. My elder and mother-in-law or not, I’m still not exactly thrilled with how she’s treated Tadashi these past few years,” Sayaka says testily. “And the rest of the family too—! Hiro and I came around, and they can too.”

“Mom,  _don’t_ —don’t make it hard on yourself,” Tadashi stammers quickly. Kei’s hand is tight in his own and he feels so guilty. He never meant to cause so many problems in his own family, and he knows that, just as he needs Kei by his side when he’s upset and nervous, his father probably wants his mother there too, with her soft voice, steady temper, and no-nonsense attitude; he doesn’t want to deprive anyone of who they need the most in their lives. “You should go. Tsukki and I can watch Himawari-chan,” he urges desperately.

He clamps his fingers down around Kei’s as he turns to glance at the blond. Kei’s frowning at him questioningly, one eyebrow arched. “ _Right_ , Kei?”

Kei purses his lips and gives Tadashi a look that says ‘we’ll discuss this later’ and slides his thumb against the center of Tadashi’s wrist. He turns to look at Sayaka as he shrugs, “I don’t particularly mind.”

“I… I don’t know,” Sayaka murmurs. “I mean, you two plan on going out to see your friends. And I’m not so sure about leaving you two alone with a toddler; it’s one thing to let you two watch her while we’re here…”

“You’ve shown us both how to change her, and she’s been fed and you’ve shown me what food she eats and Hitoka-chan would  _adore_ her,” Tadashi says quietly.

“My mother wouldn’t mind helping if we hit any trouble,” Kei offers. Tadashi’s heart nearly melts at the ease with which Kei’s going along with him even though he  _knows_ with absolute certainty he’s in trouble.

Tadashi’s mother purses her lips and looks thoughtful for a long moment. “We’ll see what your father says.”

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a long moment, before Tadashi’s uncle starts asking questions about vet school to break the unease. Kei unwinds his fingers from Tadashi’s and stands, gathering the dirty plates from the table.

He can’t really bring himself to be angry with Tadashi, not really, even though he’s going and doing what he said he wasn’t, and putting himself out in an effort to resolve himself of the guilt he feels for being a point of conflict in his family. He’s always felt a bit guilty about it, too; it takes two to build a relationship like theirs, and without him, maybe Tadashi could have lived a quieter life. But he’s always been pretty selfish— he never could part himself from Tadashi, even when his entire life was stuck in an apathetic stand-still.

So, no… He can’t be angry with Tadashi for feeling a bit desperate to do what he can to smooth out the bumps in his family. He wants to help. Kei’s just not sure if taking charge of the care of a small child is the best way to go about it. He’ll just have to keep an eye on Tadashi to make sure he doesn’t exhaust himself trying to be helpful. And probably another eye on the small child. He’s just… not really too sure what to do with it. It’s one thing to imitate old home movies of his infancy in the dead of night to get a kid to sleep, but it’s another to watch after the thing while it’s awake and moving around.

He starts rinsing off the dishes so he can put them into the dishwasher, listening idly as Tadashi launches in one of his more involved stories about a sheepdog who tried to escape from the clinic a few months ago. He smiles to himself, because every time Tadashi tells the story, he gets animated and impossibly loud, and ends up having to stop himself until he can talk over his own laughter.

He waits patiently for the point where Tadashi’s sniggering becomes full-on gasped laughter, punctuating each word about that poor, confused sheepdog who really did  _not_  want its shots and his very unfortunate sensei; when it comes, he shuts off the sink and turns so he can watch as Tadashi doubles over at the table into helpless giggles.

His mother and uncle watch in bewildered amusement, and the sight is enough to make Kei chuckle to himself.

“What’s he going on about?” Hiro asks as he strides back into the room, Himawari still perched happily on his shoulders.

“Escaped dog at the clinic,” Kei answers Tadashi’s father. “It’s one of those things where it’s funnier when you’re there for it, I think. I’ve never heard the full story; he ends up laughing too hard.”

“I see,” Hiro muses.

On his shoulders, Himawari turns her gaze to Kei and stares at him with wide eyes. Kei raises an eyebrow at the toddler, before giving her an awkward smile. It feels more like a grimace on his face, so he lets his neutral expression slide back on.

“Up,” she demands, unwinding her hands from Tadashi’s father’s hair so she can reach for Kei.

“What? No, hey, uh, I’m not really—”

“Up.”

Hiro laughs at Kei and reaches up to lift Himawari off of his shoulders. “It looks like it’s your turn, Kei,” he says with amusement. “She seems to like heights. You’ve got plenty of that to spare; put yourself to good use.”

“I’m not that much taller,” Kei mutters, even though it’s definitely a lie. He awkwardly takes the toddler from Hiro, and she starts squirming as soon as her full weight is transferred to his arms. “Hey, no, don’t move,” he hisses. Hiro reaches out and helps Kei guide the girl to his shoulders.

“She’ll stop moving around once she’s up there,” he says with a laugh. “And you won’t drop her as long as you have a firm grip on her. You did fine last night, Sayaka says, so just keep a hold on her like you did then.”

“She wasn’t all the way up here, then,” he grumbles. Kei keeps his hands on Himawari’s legs, which are wrapped around his neck as she drapes her weight against the back of his head, pudgy fingers inevitably finding his glasses and knocking them askew. “Oi, not the glasses,” he begs.

“I’ve got you,” Hiro laughs, reaching up to transfer Himawari’s fingers to Kei’s hair. She latches on easily, and Kei is very strongly reminded of Tadashi’s own sloth-like tendencies. God, it’s hereditary isn’t it? But he’s not about to think this kid is cute,  _nope_. She just reminds him of Tadashi, that’s all. “You can fix your glasses now.”

Kei reaches out tentatively to push his glasses back onto his nose as Hiro keeps his hands on Himawari to keep her balanced on Kei’s shoulders. He feels very unbalanced and very aware of the child perched on him. “Is this particularly safe?” he asks as Himawari starts giggling and reaching up to the ceiling in obvious delight over how high off the floor she was.

“I’ll walk behind you if it’ll make you feel better,” Hiro offers. He lets Kei grab a hold of Himawari, hands hovering midair to be ready to help if anything went amiss.

“Um, yes, do that,” Kei answers, very conscious of the fact that Tadashi’s laughter has subsided. He can feel his cheeks start to burn and he takes a peek over his shoulder at his lover. Tadashi’s looking at him with a look of love-struck awe; he recognizes the face from years of receiving it on the volleyball court, in class, from waking up in the early morning to find Tadashi looking at him like he’s something precious and out-of-reach. He’s never really felt like he’s deserving of the look, and nothing’s changed in this instance. All he’s doing is making a fool out of himself with a toddler.

“Go go go up,” Himawari giggles at his ear and Hiro gives him an encouraging nod. Kei sighs and starts walking, feeling very ungainly and like he needs to duck every time he goes through a doorway. Himawari sways on his shoulders and he’s absolutely terrified she’s going to fall. This _cannot_ be safe. Absolutely not.

Her giggles and shrieks of delight make him even more nervous because every time it happens, he’s convinced she’s going to slide off of his back. It’s more nerve-wracking than any rally ever was in high school, or the mock-trials they do in class and he has to get up and prove without a shadow of a doubt that whatever fake-company the teachers have set up were undoubtedly breaking contracts, or even when he goes in for mock-exams for the bar at cram school. He goes one full circuit of the downstairs area of the house before he realizes that Hiro’s left him alone with the child some minutes ago and he’s half torn between being highly relieved that he’s not fucked up yet and being angry that he’s been left alone with the kid. He’s also not really fond of the looks he’s getting from the rest of Tadashi’s extended family, like he’s going to cart the kid off to some back room and do something unspeakable.

He wants to scream at them that just because he’s sleeping with another man doesn’t mean he’s going to cart off children and molest them. He just barely represses the urge to flip them all off.

He circles back into the kitchen, where Hiro and Sayaka are in deep conversation and Tadashi’s waiting for him at the table.

“Having fun yet, Tsukki?” Tadashi asks, standing so he can lift Himawari up off of his shoulders. The girl whines and flails a bit, but Tadashi just jiggles her in his arms and shushes her like he’s had years of practice.

 Kei really wants to know just exactly how Tadashi can pull off taking a care of a toddler like that. It’s kind of ridiculous and he knows he’s probably wearing the same sloppy, infatuated look he’d just seen on Tadashi’s face. “Uh, I’d look up the definition of fun if I were you,” he mumbles. He reaches up and tucks an escaped lock of hair behind Tadashi’s ear. “I mean, I guess  _she_  did.”

“Did you?” Tadashi asks Himawari, beaming down at her. “Did you have fun, Himawari-chan?”

Himawari nods once and reaches her arms up towards Kei again. “Up fun,” she says seriously. “More please?”

“Later,” Tadashi promises, “Right, Tsukki?”

Kei nods and leans forward a bit. It won’t hurt to indulge the kid, he guesses. And nothing disastrous happened this time, and he can always get Tadashi to walk behind him to make sure she stays on his shoulders.  _He’d_ at least follow him around the entire time. “You can go up later,” he says. He reaches up and lets her curl her fingers around one of his own and okay, he can admit the kid is cute.

Tadashi looks smitten with her, though. He’s starting to become wary of the way the brunet’s smile is softening when he looks at the toddler; he’s seen that look attached to baby animals that Tadashi can never take home. He wonders if Tadashi’s managed to convince the girl that he’s not her mother; the fact she’s not calling him ‘kaa-san’ anymore seems to indicate so, but he’s not really sure if that means anything. He’d tried to impress on her the night before that Tadashi wasn’t ‘kaa-san’; all she’d done was giggle and wiggle her hands at him in the half-light, like he was the mistaken one. He doesn’t know how much could get done in that hour and a half gap between Tadashi waking up and Kei coming downstairs.

Apparently a lot.

“Mom says we can watch her today, by the way,” Tadashi murmurs. “Apparently the awkward way you manhandle children is heartwarming.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Also Shōyō’s school is off on founder’s holiday, and apparently he’s more trustworthy around children than us or Hitoka-chan,” Tadashi snickers. “Because that was the final decisive factor.”

“Your mother baffles me,” Kei mutters. “I can’t believe they let that midget within thirty meters of a school.”

Tadashi adjusts Himawari in his arms as he shrugs dismissively. The girl lets go of Kei’s fingers and wraps her arms around Tadashi’s neck, murmuring almost-words to herself.  “Mom says to go ahead and take a shower before everyone else wakes up enough to want one,” the brunet instructs Kei. “I’ve already had mine, so all I have to do is change. Hitoka-chan says we can come over whenever, since she took the day off because Shōyō wanted to, and I quote, ‘Rub it into stupid Kageyama’s face that he has to go to work while we don’t’.”

“Christ, he never grew up, did he?” Kei snorts. “I don’t know how Hitoka deals with it.”

“I have a vague idea,” Tadashi says with a smirk.

Kei wrinkles his nose and sighs, “I’m not sure if that was at my expense or if you’re making lewd jokes. In either case,  _no_.”

Tadashi snickers. “Meet you upstairs,” he says with a wink and a passing try at what Kei thinks is supposed to be seduction, but it just ends up making Kei roll his eyes and give Tadashi a light push.

He goes up to Tadashi’s—well,  _their_ —room and starts hunting down his clothes for the day. He vaguely thinks that they should unpack rather than just dig blindly into the bags every time they need something from them, but that not only requires the effort to unpack everything, but the effort to  _repack_ once he week was out. He sighs and continues hunting for socks that he knows they packed.

He eventually finds them, and he really hopes that these are his and not Tadashi’s—his socks are always too thin for him, and he ends up with cold feet every time he puts on a pair of the other man’s socks out of sheer laziness or mistaken sock-matching after they do laundry. Tadashi calls Kei’s socks ‘old man socks’, because they’re thick, generally dark, and trouser-length compared to the ‘whatever, they’re cheap’ socks that Tadashi buys; he lets Tadashi get away with this because, well, he’s kind of right. He piles his clothes into his arms along with his smaller bag of toiletries. He sets them on the bed, sits, and waits for Tadashi to come back upstairs.

He’s glad when Tadashi slides into the room empty-armed. “Close the door,” he instructs.

Tadashi raises an eyebrow, “Are you being forward or are you about to scold me?”

Kei sighs. “Just close the door and come here.”   

Tadashi obeys, and goes a step further to lock it behind him. Combined with the tentative look on his face, Kei feels like they’re back to those first few months of dating, too nervous to do anything more than hold onto each other, even behind closed doors. There are a lot of things from high school he regrets, but taking Tadashi’s hand is not one of them.

Tadashi comes to stand in front of Kei, pursing his lips as he tries to read the blond’s face. Kei reaches up and pulls Tadashi down into his lap. “Tadashi, _don’t_ ,” he murmurs against the brunet’s ear, pushing his lover’s face against the crook of his neck. He doesn’t need to provide context; he knows that Tadashi knows what he’s talking about. “You told me you wouldn’t, so  _don’t_. It’s not your fault, okay? Let them just deal with the fallout on their own.”

The brunet flinches against Kei. “Tsukki,” he mutters weakly as the blond tightens his grip on him. “Tsukki, I can’t just… I can’t do that to my mom and dad.”

“They can find someone else,” Kei mutters, but Tadashi shakes his head.

He brings his arms up to wrap tightly around the taller man. “ _Kei_ ,” he says softly, “This is like if… if I don’t know, Aki-nii had a kid, and he died, and… and no one wanted to help out, and I couldn’t be there to support you because of it. It’s not fair, right?” Kei doesn’t answer, but instead holds onto Tadashi even tighter. Tadashi sighs quietly against Kei’s neck, and squeezes back as tightly as he can with both his arms and legs.

He understands Kei’s frustrations; they’ve grown up together, after all. He thinks that Kei would be angry with him even if they weren’t romantically involved like they are:

Kei’s seen every single instance of him getting taken advantage of because he’s too nice, too caring; in their way, these people were worse than the bullies who had tormented him in elementary school. They have a way of worming their way deep under his skin in the ways the bullies never been able to, and make him feel useless and worthless and utterly selfish. Kei’s the one who finally chased them all off, even when they were college students and Tadashi was being put to the forefront of every group project and lab assignment, because Tadashi could never bear to be mean enough to stand up to them alone.

Kei’s the one that eased him through the pain of his parents estrangement, pulled him close and opened up his own family for him. Kei took him to celebrate when his parents came around, and Kei’s the one who held his hair back after he got so drunk he was sick for hours after the family reunion that ended in nasty screaming insults. Kei’s held him at night when he cries over it, or over the animals they can’t help in the clinic and stories of animal abuse. He can map out every single embarrassing instance where Tadashi’s worked until he can’t tell up from down, gone nights without sleeping because he’s worried, and had to eased down into something that only barely resembles composure. Kei knows how thin Tadashi is willing to stretch himself to be of use to people, to make others happy. To make up for the feeling of letting everyone down. 

“Not just that,” Kei finally says. “I don’t mind taking care of the brat, I  _don’t._ It’s not that—It’s… neither of us did anything wrong.” he continues fiercely. “Don’t feel guilty. I mean it. Your dad meant it. Your mom means it.”

“I know,” Tadashi mumbles. He knows. He does, really. It’s just hard. It’s hard to remember when they’re back in his childhood bedroom in a town that hasn’t changed much since they were kids, surrounded by veiled sneers and cutting words. The nights where he can remember staying up and crying himself to sleep because he thought what he wanted was wrong, or that he wasn’t good enough for the things he wanted feel so much closer here than they did in Tokyo. The confidence he’s built up over the years is such a fallible thing; when it breaks, he always feels like he has to scramble to keep the things he has, like he has to make up for being weak.

“So you don’t have to prove to them that you’re a good person. You could be rotten, Tadashi, and I would still… I— be selfish for once.”

“Don’t you think it’s kind of selfish to do things with the goal of only proving yourself to be a good person, Tsukki?” Tadashi asks. He tips his head to the side and looks at Kei carefully. “Or are you trying to tell me that you love me and want to spoil me?”

Kei pulls Tadashi back against him and grumbles against his ear in answer; Tadashi laughs. It’s a clear, easy sound that’s more reminiscent of how the man was laughing at his own story about the escapee dog than how Tadashi laughs when he’s nervous, and Kei slowly eases his grasp on the slighter male. “You’re not selfish,” he mutters.

Tadashi lets Kei go and brings his hands up to cup the blond’s face between his palms. “Oh, but I really am,” he retorts lightly. He has no problems admitting he’s selfish. After all, he gave up his family because he wanted Kei more than he wanted their love. This is, after all, where the guilt he feels stems from.

He always wants to be seen as a ‘good child’; it’s something he’s always wanted. He wants to be praised and loved and be a source of pride for his parents, always. He thinks this is pretty selfish, honestly. He feels bad because he gave them up for Kei, even now that he has them both in his life. But now he desires approval more than anything; he craves those moments where his parents have to admit that they were wrong, and that Tadashi grew up just fine, more than anything. It’s a twisted balance between wanting to be a good child and wanting to be a person who was right.

And he loves Kei for loving him despite this, for getting angry with him and tempering him and reminding him that he can do better things than aim for being a ‘good child’. He adjusts himself so he’s sitting on his knees, face hovering over Kei’s. He brushes his thumbs against the blond’s face and he dips his head down to kiss Kei softly. “I’m selfish, so indulge me; keep getting mad at me, okay?” He grins against Kei’s mouth, humming as the blond leans up into an answering kiss. He opens his mouth against Kei’s, and their tongues slide together languidly as  Kei’s fingers curl into Tadashi’s shirt.

Tadashi pulls away and gets back onto his feet, hands still pressed to Kei’s face. He licks his lips absently.  “And, I don’t know if this is actually helpful, but… I want to watch after Himawari-chan just to do it. It’s fun and she’s a sweet child.”

“Not helpful,” Kei grumbles, reaching up to put his hands over Tadashi’s. “Remember, Tadashi, we can’t take her home at the end of all of this.”

Tadashi pauses, a strange look crossing over his face. Kei recognizes that look, and it’s  _not_  good—it never is. It’s Tadashi’s face when he’s faced with something he can’t do, but wants to; it’s the look he used to give the volleyball and his hands when a serve he thought would go especially well didn't turn out the way he wanted it to. It’s the look he gets when Kei says they can’t do something, or that  _he_  can’t do something, whether it be having sex in their tiny shower or going to law school. He’s been proven wrong in every situation this face has graced Tadashi’s features. He’s unsettled by it in this context.

The look is gone as soon as it registers on Tadashi’s face, and Tadashi gently pats Kei’s cheeks with his palms. “We’ll figure it out as we go along. But you like her too,” he says with a laugh. “Tsukishima Kei’s cold heart is only moved by small children with freckles.”

Kei makes a face, “Eugh, now you’re making me sound like some sort of pervert.”

“Aren’t you though?” Tadashi snickers, stepping back. “Take a shower, Tsukki.”

Kei clicks his tongue and rises obediently from the bed. He gathers his things and runs his fingers fondly though Tadashi’s shaggy, over-long hair. He’s not good, even after so many years, with verbalizing just how much he really does love Tadashi and wants him healthy, whole, and happy. Sometimes he wonders if the small gestures he’s picked up in the absence of his words are enough to let the other man  _really_  know, especially when Tadashi’s feeling down and anxious and helpless. He tugs absently at the elastic band in his lover’s hair.

It’s funny that he still gets tongue-tied about his feelings for Tadashi, someone he’s been at ease with for so long, but has words to spare when he’s preparing for mock-courtrooms and long legal diatribes that make people’s head spin, or when he’s faced with handling calls from unrepentant tabloids.

 “Wish you could join me,” he murmurs instead of whispering that he loves Tadashi. He tugs the elastic from Tadashi’s hair and grins as he lets the band roll down his fingers to his wrist.

Tadashi turns pink and sticks his tongue out, and Kei knows that Tadashi knew what he meant. He smirks to himself and heads into the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If no one's picked up on this, this fic is just jam-packed full of self-indulgent domestic fluff. I have the biggest weakness for domestic fluff fluff and I just can't not indulge myself.   
> Back to tsukkiyamafest O A O ;;


	5. Something Warm, Something Slow

He bathes quickly, mostly because he kind of just wants to get out of the house with its suffocating air of mourning and veiled distaste. He feels bad for feeling like he’s trapped in Tadashi’s childhood home, but he’s anxious to get the week over with so they can go back to Tokyo, to the home and headspace they worked so hard to get to. He’s always afraid that the way Tadashi’s parents tiptoe around the two year gap in their relationship with their son will send Tadashi back to places they’ve both worked damn hard to get him out of, and being around this many relations that only wish them ill isn’t helpful. He starts making plans to keep Tadashi out of the house. Bending over backwards to prove he’s a ‘good child’ is only just the start. If he lets Tadashi keep going, keep thinking like that, it’ll be so easy for the other man to get sick again.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to control himself if he gets the slightest hint that Tadashi’s anything but fine. Those first few years have kindled a fierce protectiveness in him, more than he’s ever had— he was all Tadashi had support-wise for those first years in Tokyo. It’s one thing when strangers and coworkers turn their nose up and dismiss them, but it’s another when it’s family. He can take it, as long as Tadashi’s fine—it’s not like it bothers him too much; it doesn’t matter what people say, at the end of the day, it isn’t their business. But it bothers Tadashi. And therefore, it makes him angry.

He dries his hair and changes into clean clothes; their room is empty when he drops his laundry off into the canvas bag they’d packed for it. He figures Tadashi’s downstairs, so he pockets his wallet and phone and heads to where it’s loudest.

Everyone’s milling around, much more awake and alert than they were earlier. They pay him no mind now that they have other things to focus on, and he’s thankful. He finds Tadashi on the back porch with Himawari and Sayaka. Himawari’s on her stomach, cheerfully scribbling away on a few spread out pieces of computer paper.

He kneels next to Tadashi, and picks up on the tail end of what seems to be a lecture on the contents of Himawari’s diaper bag. “She’s not old enough for candy; give her the yogurt melts for treats, but be careful she doesn’t try to swallow it whole. And if she starts fussing, she seems to be able to tell you what’s wrong—more or less,” Sayaka says.

“Okay. And I promise, I won’t let Hitoka-chan or Shōyō steal her.”

“Do you think that would actually be a problem?” Tadashi’s mother laughs, ruffling her son’s hair as she stands. “Just don’t forget the bag, or you’ll be in for it,” she adds as she walks off.

“Have I ever forgotten something I needed, mom?” Tadashi calls after her, making a face as she just shakes her head at him.

“…There’s the time you literally forgot your bag before a tournament, so don’t even try,” Kei mutters.

“Tsukki! _Hush_!”

“Well, you asked a question,” Kei replies. “I answered. Are you ready?”

Tadashi nods, “Yep. Mom showed me how to do the car seat so we can drive there instead of taking the bus or something.” He leans over so he’s almost on his stomach, at eye-level with Himawari. “Hey, Himawari-chan, are you done with coloring?” he asks softly.

The girl looks up at him and blinks. “Done?” she chirrups.

“Yeah? Are you done with your picture?” Tadashi asks again, grinning at her. He taps on the papers.

“Done,” Himawari agrees. She grins at him and thrusts a yellow crayon at him. “Shishan!”

“Oh, thank you,” he tells her warmly, taking the crayon dutifully. “Do you want my help?”

“Shishan done,” she says. She hands him another crayon after thoughtfully adding another scribble to her page with it.

“Who’s Shishan?” Kei asks, watching as Tadashi puts up the crayons one by one as Himawari hands them to him.

Tadashi blushes, “Um that would be me.”  He elbows Kei in the side as the blonde starts snickering. “Hey! Don’t be mean, Tsukki,” he pouts.

“I have the license to laugh at any nickname you _ever_ receive since you dubbed me after an animated dinosaur,” Kei says loftily, receiving another elbow to the ribs. “Ow, god. Stop that. I’ll file for a divorce on the grounds of domestic abuse.”

Tadashi pouts as he finishes putting up the crayons, and ignores Kei as Himawari proudly picks up her pictures. Kei rolls his eyes as Tadashi coos at the girl but stops short as she makes her way to him, pushing the papers up into his face.

“Uh. Very nice?” he says after an encouraging nod from Tadashi. He reaches out and awkwardly ruffles her hair like he would with Tadashi and the girl beams up at him, giggling to herself. He tries not to smile at her reaction, especially with the way that Tadashi’s looking at him, but he finds his lips twitching up anyways.

Tadashi smiles and stands. “Okay, Himawari-chan, let’s go put on our shoes and then we’re gonna go out. Do you want to keep your picture to show people?”

Himawari looks at Tadashi for a moment, then to her paper. She considers it for a few seconds before shoving the papers into Kei’s lap. She takes a few steps forwards to fist her fingers into Tadashi’s pants. “Done!”

Tadashi smirks at Kei and Kei holds the papers loosely in his fingers; he’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do with them now that he has them. “…I’ll go give these to your mother?” he ventures unsurely.

“She’ll probably put them on the fridge or something,” Tadashi answers as he leans forward and takes Himawari’s hands into his own as she tries to climb onto his feet. He arranges her so she’s standing on the tops of his feet, most of her weight held up by Tadashi’s hands. 

Kei nods and stands. “I’ll meet you at the car?” he asks. Tadashi nods and shuffles off with Himawari standing on his feet and her hands in his like they’re a pair of penguins, the little girl giggling loudly. Kei wishes he was fast enough to pull his phone out and take a picture; he shakes the urge off of him like it’s water—there’d literally be no point in taking one anyway.

Kei strides down the hall and through the dining room. The cousins are grouped together, chatting together in the way that teenagers and young adults tend to do—Kei almost thinks about it nostalgically before shaking himself mentally: he and Tadashi aren’t that old. They just had to mature a lot, very quickly, and it isn’t as if he and Tadashi don’t gossip when they get together with their friends. He thinks, by the way one of the girls glares and blushes, that they’re most definitely talking about him and Tadashi.

He sighs through his nose. He peeks into the kitchen, and finds that it’s been vacated. He rubs his temples idly and drifts through the hallway to locate Sayaka. He hears her voice before he really sees her—he’s unfortunately familiar with the tone.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about my son like that,” he hears her say. He steps quietly and stands next to the guest room door.  He can’t bring himself to feel guilty for eavesdropping when the guest room is _so_ close to the entry way; he fervently prays Tadashi hadn’t heard any of it. “We’ve already had this discussion, and there’s nothing we can do to change that they’re together—we just have to accept it.”

“I don’t care what you think, Sayaka-chan, but I don’t want him near that little girl—I saw that nasty, rude boy carting Himawari-chan around the house,” a woman says angrily. “What sort of influences are you alright with submitting a toddler to?”

“Both of them are the only ones volunteering to help out with Himawari-chan—and if you have such a problem with them taking care of her, then why don’t you step up and do it yourself?”

“That’s your responsibility,” the woman says dismissively. “You volunteered your home and time. And I thought that, as a hostess, you would know better! Just because that child is your son, it doesn’t mean you can be blind. He used to be such a nice child too, I _know_ , but you need to open your eyes. What will you do if they take her off somewhere? People like that have no decency! If he has the gall to talk about sex to a girl with his mother in the room, what do you think he’d do when they go off alone?”

Kei swallows hard and feels a chill go down his spine—hadn’t he just idly thought that the rest of the family looked at him like they thought he would do that? He’d only been half joking, but to hear it aloud... it’s an entirely different matter.

He gently folds the drawing Himawari had passed him and tucks it into his pocket. He doesn’t much want them to have it, not even Sayaka, who’s just letting her relatives steamroll over her and Tadashi. She’s not saying another word to defend him—she’s just apologizing, even though she knows good and well that the woman is wrong. He slips his phone out of his pocket and dials his mother, stepping into the entryway.

He slides on his shoes and waits for his mother to pick up. He can’t just idly plan to get Tadashi out for a few hours at a time. He wants Tadashi out of this house—he wants out, too. He wants to go back to Tokyo, to their tiny apartment and lumpy bed and crappy water pressure. He wants to go back to snide comments behind their backs and fridges full of beer so that they can get so drunk that they move the sofa so they can pretend to learn how to waltz. He doesn’t want to hear the things he heard, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that maybe, Tadashi’s parents only came around to fulfill desires to be ‘good parents’ in the same way that Tadashi’s breaking his back to be a ‘good son’.

“Hello? Kei?”

“Hi mom,” Kei mumbles, feeling his face grow hot. “…Mom, I don’t… I don’t want Tadashi to stay in this house,” he says after a long awkward silence. It’s so embarrassing, but he feels his throat go tight. He steps out of the door and closes it behind him, leaning up against the wood in the cool morning air. “He can’t… I—they’re saying nasty things.”

“Oh, honey,” his mother murmurs softly. “I thought he and his parents reconciled.”

“…they did, but… the rest of the family. There’s this little girl, and Tadashi… Tadashi wants to help take care of her this week, and they…” His voice falters as he catches sight of Tadashi struggling to buckle a giggling Himawari into her car seat in the back of their rented car. It hits him in the chest like a train.

He’s never been equipped to handle this in person, he realizes. He’s only ever dealt with the fallout for all these years—he’s only ever picked up the pieces after someone’s come through and broken Tadashi down into little bits. The only time he ever stepped in during the act was an accident, because playground bullies were _so_ cliché and he couldn’t help himself from flaunting his superiority.

Every other time, it was because he’d seen what happened to Tadashi. He’d chased off the bullies by word-of-mouth in elementary school; in junior high, all he had to do was scowl. Even in high school, in college, he only stepped in _after_ seeing Tadashi fall apart: he’s never been in a position where he witnessed, first hand, what people were saying about Tadashi. He’s not sure what to do. All he knows how to do is deal with the aftermath, to hold Tadashi through the tears and the self-loathing and coax him out into a better place, how to remind Tadashi to take care of himself when he falls apart. He doesn’t know how to _prevent_ him from breaking down, not really.

If it were a movie, he thinks—like the cheesy ones that Tadashi watches when it’s late and he can’t sleep—he would have burst into the room and delivered some heartfelt speech that would change their minds entirely about Tadashi and his relationship. Roll credits, the end, happily ever after.

But it’s _not_ a movie—he’s on the phone with his mother, chest burning, wanting nothing more than to wrap Tadashi up and never, never let him return to that house. They’re going to have to come back to it at the end of the day, and it won’t matter what he says—those people will probably never change their minds, because they don’t _want_ to.

“Did he hear them, honey?” his mother asks softly.

Kei shakes his head. He remembers his mother can’t see him, so he forces his voice out. He’s surprised how calm he sounds; “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“What are you two doing today? Is he going to be where he can hear them again?”

“No,” he answers instantly, “We’re going visiting. Shōyō and Hitoka-chan.”

“Good. Stay with them as long as possible. Tomorrow, I have errands for you two to run in town for me,” his mother says.

“Do you really?” Kei asks with a weak laugh.

“Well, your father wants to repaint and refurnish your and Aki’s old rooms,” she muses. “And you have so much still in storage here. And I’m sure Aki wouldn’t mind coming down for a visit. Come when your friends aren’t free, and feel free to bring the little girl along if you need to.”

Kei laughs again, “Thank you,” he murmurs. “God, thank you.”

“Don’t let Tadashi worry over you being upset now,” his mother advises. “Take him aside later when you two have some time alone and let him know, but don’t ruin his day.”

Kei quietly murmurs his assent, and bids his mother farewell. He schools his face and walks over to the car, bracing a hand against Tadashi’s back where the brunet is kneeling in the backseat, playing with one of the toys from Himawari’s diaper bag. Or rather, Himawari is showing Tadashi how to play with the toy; Kei thinks it’s some weird toddler’s version of a Rubik’s cube.

Tadashi looks over his shoulder at Kei and smiles brightly at him. “You ready to go?” he asks. Kei nods and reaches up to muss Tadashi’s hair. It earns him a grumble of protest and a pout from Tadashi; he smirks and leans forward to muss Himawari’s hair as well, who enjoys it much more than Tadashi did.

“Let’s go,” Kei murmurs as Tadashi smoothes his hair down as best he can. Some of it’s come free from his ponytail and it makes Kei grin softly. He jingles the keys in his hand and waits for Tadashi to check Himawari’s car seat one last time before closing up the back door. He reaches forward and cups the back of Tadashi’s neck with his hand and steals a soft kiss. “Hey, hey, no foul play,” he murmurs as Tadashi playfully pinches at his side.

“You’re the one with surprise attacks here,” Tadashi says lightly. He breaks away, cheeks pink, and trots over to the passenger side of the car. Kei slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car as Tadashi buckles himself in.

“I hope you remember how to get to their house,” Kei says as he pulls out of the driveway. “Because I don’t.”

Tadashi groans and pulls out his phone and calls Hitoka for directions. They get lost only once—twice by Tadashi’s count—before they arrive at the small house that Hitoka and Shōyō live in. It’s quaint and painted a pretty mint color; Tadashi sees Hitoka’s touches in the color of the paint, in the way the garden is laid out in their square of property in the subdivision. They can also see Shōyō’s touches in the faint glimpse of a volleyball net in the backyard, and the ball hidden beneath some of the hydrangeas in the front lawn.

“Oh, it looks like Himawari-chan’s gone to sleep,” Tadashi comments as Kei turns off the car. Kei looks back over his shoulder, and sure enough, the toddler is sacked out in her car seat, drool slipping out of her open mouth.

“I’ll get her bag,” Kei offers, sliding out of the car, closing the door as gently as he can. It doesn’t seem to phase the girl, who seems to be deep asleep. He grabs her diaper bag as Tadashi exits the car. He watches in interest as Tadashi unbuckles her carefully and scoops her up, boneless, into his arms.

“You’re real good at this whole… babysitting thing,” Kei comments, raising an eyebrow. Tadashi shrugs the best he can.

“I guess some people are just naturally good with children,” Tadashi murmurs.

“It’s because you have a tendency to mother hen everyone.” A sly grin passes across Kei’s mouth. “What was it the first years called you when you were vice captain?”

“Tsukki, nooooo,” Tadashi warns, cheeks turning red. “Don’t.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Kei snickers. “It was ‘Mamaguchi’.”

“ _Keeeeeeeeeei,_ ” Tadashi groans, kicking at Kei’s ankles. “God, don’t bring that back.”

Kei laughs his way to the front door. Hitoka throws it open before either of them even ring the bell, throwing her arms around Kei’s middle. “I’m so glad to see you made it!” she cries, “After we hung up I realized that I didn’t make sure that the directions didn’t send you off a cliff! Or worse, into a one-way traffic street! I was really worried! Especially since it’s not your car and you had a _child_ in there too—”

Kei flinches a bit at the full-force of Hitoka’s hug, so he settles for reaching up to awkwardly pat her on the head. “We just uh, plugged it into Google. No offense.”

“See, what’d I tell you. They were just going to use the address.”

Hitoka turns and sticks her tongue out at her husband, who’s padded up behind them. He’s eyeing Kei like he used to, “Why’re you hugging Yacchan?”

“She’s the one hugging me, idiot,” Kei sneers back. Hitoka rolls her eyes as they start up their usual rounds of bickering back and forth as they drift inside the house. Tadashi sighs as well, knowing that they’ll soon devolve into childish competitions (because, really, Kei was always just as easy to goad as Kageyama. Especially now that he’s older and doesn’t get to let loose as often anymore—the sheer idiocy that Kuroo could goad Kei into, even at twenty-five, was ridiculous).

He adjusts Himawari in his arms, trying to get her into a position that doesn’t put his hand to sleep.

“Is this the little girl you mentioned?” Hitoka inquires brightly, leaning up onto her toes to inspect Himawari, who’s started to stir in Tadashi’s arms. “She’s so cute!”

“Yup,” Tadashi says as Himawari begins to squirm and whimper at being awakened. “Uh-oh. She doesn’t sound thrilled.”

Hitoka squeaks and ushers Tadashi inside, “Oh, I hope I didn’t wake her up,” she frets.

“Nah, it wasn’t you,” Tadashi laughs, adjusting Himawari so she can’t wriggle her way out of his grasp or accidentally punch him in the face with a stretched out arm. “Do you have like… a guest room or something where I can get her awake without a meltdown?”

“Mm, yeah, this way!”

As Himawari’s fussing builds in volume, Kei tears himself away from talking with Hinata to follow after Hitoka and Tadashi with the diaper bag.

Curious, Shōyō follows along. “I remember when Natsu was that age,” he muses thoughtfully as Tadashi settles himself and Himawari down onto the guest bed and starts rustling around in the bag offered to him for something to distract her with long enough for her to calm down.

“You sound like an old man,” Kei sneers.

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I am not an ‘old man’,” Shōyō shoots back, “In fact, I don’t have a single gray hair yet! That’s Kageyama!”

“What does that even have to do with anything?” Kei snaps at the same time Hitoka mumbles a ‘ _you shouldn’t tease him about that, Shōyō, you know he’s self-conscious about it_ ’. Kei hears it and looks like he’s just been given the secrets to the universe; Tadashi’s just a little bit disgusted at the childish glee on his lover’s face.

Tadashi sighs through his nose. “ _Children_ ,” Tadashi mutters warningly under his breath. Hitoka gives a nervous giggle.

“See, _that’s_ what I meant,” Kei says knowingly to Tadashi, breaking out into a quiet fit of snickering at the brunet’s answering eye roll.

Shōyō raises an eyebrow, “What d’you mean?”

“That’s his scolding voice,” Kei supplies, covering his mouth with his hand as Tadashi rocks Himawari against his chest, scowling at his lover over the top of the toddler’s head. “Don’t you remember?” he whispers conspiratorially.

“Oh, of course,” Shōyō laughs, “With the amount of times we all got the other end of it! All the first years called him ‘mama’! Just like with Suga!”

“Kei, so help me if you don’t do anything helpful at all, I will make you pay for it,” Tadashi warns as Himawari starts crying in earnest now. He jiggles her on his knee, trying to soothe her.

“What? I mean, what am I supposed to do? Is she wet or like, do we need to feed her?” Kei hisses back, face pink.

Shōyō snickers; “Like I was saying earlier—Natsu was like that,” he says. “She was asleep on the ride over, right? She just needs a moment to transition,” he continues, waving his hand dismissively. “She just needs a bit of quiet and some reassurances before you introduce her to new people.”

“That’s like, the exact opposite of what you’re doing,” Kei snaps at Shōyō.

Hitoka looks over at Tadashi and squeaks at his exasperated expression. “W-well! Shōyō, why don’t we start the tea! Tea! Let’s make it!” she declares, pushing her husband out of the room. Shōyō sticks his tongue out over his shoulder at Kei.

“Honestly, how does he even teach with a personality like that?” Kei gripes.

“The same way you’ll be an attorney with a personality like yours,” Tadashi retorts succinctly. He looks up when no rejoinder comes, blinking slowly at Kei’s indignant expression. He tucks Himawari’s face against his chest, stroking his hand against her back as she continues to wail into his shirt. “What? It’s true,” he adds, smirking.

“... Note taken,” Kei huffs, settling onto the foot of the bed, “Do you want to give her here?”

“Nah, go through the bag and pull out some snacks,” Tadashi instructs. “There should also be a small stuffed toy, if you can grab that.”

Kei starts rifling through the bag while Tadashi murmurs consolingly at Himawari. He finds the toy first, a small fuzzy ball of a stuffed animal—he thinks it’s a hedgehog. He passes it to Tadashi, who takes it and sets it aside for a moment while he settles Himawari on his lap. He wipes her face off with the hem of her sleeve, cooing quiet ‘it’s okay’s at her as she cries. He offers her the toy, and her whimpering stops for a moment as she grabs it and clutches it to her chest. She hiccups and pushes her face into it, leaning forward against Tadashi’s stomach.

Kei raises an eyebrow and Tadashi shrugs. “You don’t have to sit here with me,” he tells the blond as Himawari cuddles up to him, sniffling quietly. “It’ll be a moment before she’s ready to go out.”

Kei looks up at the ceiling and shrugs. “I don’t mind,” he murmurs. He scoots himself over on the bed so he can put his chin on Tadashi’s shoulder. “Those two can wait.”

Tadashi gives a low chuckle. He knows Kei’s full of shit—babies crying and children pitching temper tantrums in the grocery store always irritated Kei to no end. “Cute,” he mumbles under his breath, half about Kei and half about Himawari, who was still teary-eyed and aggressively snuggling her toy and his stomach in turns.

“Don’t compliment yourself too much,” Kei drawls lazily.

It takes a good five minutes for Himawari to calm down and cheer back up. She still has her stuffed animal clutched in her grasp as she wiggles her way down from Tadashi’s lap, declaring that she was done. She curiously starts wandering about the room, nudging a volleyball with her foot. “Play?” she asks, nudging it again.

“Oh god,” Kei groans. “No, no not another one.”

Tadashi snickers. “Well, Shōyō will be pleased, at least.” He stands from the bed and takes the ball from the floor. “We’ll play,” he promises.

Kei flops over onto the sheets, “No no  don’t encourage it. The little monster’s cute as she is—don’t ruin it by encouraging the volleyball bug,” he complains.

“Drama queen,” Tadashi shoots back. He smirks, “Himawari-chan, don’t look.”

Himawari covers her eyes obediently as Tadashi tosses the ball to land on Kei’s stomach.

“ _Oof_ —hey!”

“Look now?” Himawari chirps, hedgehog slowly sliding out from between her elbows.

“Yep,” Tadashi says. He picks up the hedgehog and hands it back to the little girl. “Do you want to meet Hitoka-chan and Shōyō, Himawari-chan?”

Himawari blinks, then looks back at the ball in Kei’s hands. “Play?”

“Then we’ll play, I promise,” Tadashi agrees before leading the little girl off, leaving Kei with a volleyball and a very warm, fuzzy feeling that he can’t identify.

He very much blames it on the volleyball Tadashi’d none-too-gently thrown onto his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick post before I go to work ahhhh


	6. So Worry Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically my first chaptered, non-oneshot, fic in like... six years? Bear with me while I learn how to balance! > A > ;;

Tadashi leads Himawari from the guest room, secretly relieved he’d managed to bullshit his way through another tantrum of the girl’s. He knew Kei was only teasing him by bringing up his mother hen tendencies, but it makes him feel a bit odd to think of them in the context of caring for an actual child.

Himawari tugs at his hand softly. “Up Shishan?”

He laughs and leans down; he taps her nose gently and she scrunches her face up as she laughs.

He grins and scoops her up as she giggles. He doesn’t much mind taking care of her, now that the sticky guilt of being mistaken for her mother has passed. She’s sweet and bright and incredibly cute; Tadashi already adores her more than he knows he should or is even reasonable. He doesn’t think he’s been hit with such a strong desire to just watch after someone and take care of them since he watched Kei’s heart shatter back when they were elementary school students. It kind of scares him.

But he feels bad for her—she’s too young to really realize what it means that her parents are dead, only that she’s very suddenly alone, and without anyone familiar to care for her, especially since her grandmother has refused to see her. He’s glad that she’s fond enough of he and Kei to let them distract her from missing her parents, and he’s glad they’re in Miyagi to help care for her. He loves his parents, but he’s not sure they’re capable of taking care of a toddler, full time, anymore, and none of the rest of the family has exactly jumped up to help.

He’s worried that he’s started to feel like he’s glad to take care of Himawari for her own sake, so he’d lied and told Kei it was for himself. In a way, it is, but… He shakes the thought away.

He carries her through his friends’ small home, following the sound of Shōyō’s voice through the short hallway to the kitchen. The redheaded man is chatting happily away, bustling around Hitoka as she makes tea and a small plate of snacks—he’s actually being helpful, Tadashi notes with a small snigger. During the visit they’d made for Hitoka and Shōyō’s wedding, the man had tried to help with rather… disastrous results.

“Oh, Tadashi-kun,” Hitoka says, beaming as she catches notice of him. “Did you get her calmed down?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Tadashi murmurs sheepishly. Himawari blinks at Shōyō and Hitoka before pushing her face shyly against Tadashi’s shoulder. He looks down at her and grins; he jiggles her a bit, leaning his head down. “Himawari-chan, this is Hitoka-chan and Shōyō. Do you want to say hi to Hitoka-chan and Shōyō?”

Hitoka smiles softly and gives a little wave as Himawari peeks over her shoulder at her; beside her Shōyō starts making faces— neither Hitoka or Tadashi particularly notice. Himawari stares at them for a moment before shoving her face back into Tadashi’s shoulder.

“Oops, I guess she’s shy,” Tadashi says apologetically.

“What a little monster,” Kei comments, coming up behind Tadashi. He has the volleyball tucked under his arm as he brings his free hand to Tadashi’s back. “That said, if I saw the faces the idiot over there was making, I’d hide too,” he sneers.

Shōyō turns red and purses his lips into a pout. “Hey now, kids like that sort of thing,” he protests.

“Just because you have the mental capacity of a toddler doesn’t mean you can speak for all of them,” Kei laughs.

Tadashi sighs and steps back onto Kei’s foot. Kei hisses and flicks Tadashi’s back in retaliation.

Himawari stares up at him with wide eyes and points at him, “Play.” Her finger goes from Kei’s face to the ball; “Play,” she says again. Tadashi laughs as Shōyō starts making a noise of awe and Kei groans. He sets Himawari down on the floor and kneels in front of her, “Okay, Himawari-chan. You get to play, but first, you need to say hi to Hitoka-chan and Shōyō,” he says softly.

Himawari purses her lips and mumbles a questioning “play?”.

“Soon,” he promises.

“Play?” she asks again, pointing up at Kei.

Kei shifts his weight and spins the ball between his palms thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Do what Tadashi says, okay?”

Himawari nods.  She shoves her stuffed toy at Tadashi’s open hands  and turns on her heels and toddles over to Hitoka, who looks like she’s about to burst. Hitoka kneels down and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Hi there, Himawari-chan. My name’s Hitoka,” she says gently.

Himawari reaches out and pats Hitoka’s knee. “Hi hi,” she says. “Hi.” She moves over to Shōyō and tugs on his pants; “Hi.”

He kneels down too and ruffles her hair. “Hi. I’m Shōyō, but you can say Shō-chan,” he says genially. Tadashi thinks that his students must all adore him; he oozes warmth and enthusiasm. Himawari blinks up at him, giving him a small smile.  “Can I play too?”

Himawari nods and shuffles over to Kei and latches onto his leg. “Play.”

Kei snorts and underhand tosses the ball to Shōyō, who catches it easily. Hitoka smacks his arm, “What’d I say about balls in the kitchen?”

“Hey, that wasn’t me!”

This earns a snicker from Kei as he hoists Himawari up into his arms. “Okay, brat. Let’s go play,” he says, the softness in his voice earning a surprised looks from Hitoka and Shōyō. “What? Hey, I’m not so cold that I’m going to pick on a kid,” he huffs, ears turning pink as he stomps out the back door.

Tadashi trails after him, “Ah, Tsukki—be careful okay?”

Kei looks at him with a bemused smirk, “What? Do you think we’ll go all out playing with a kid? Don’t be stupid; I doubt Hinata’s _that_ single-minded.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Shōyō snaps. He claps Tadashi on the shoulder. “We’ll just roll the ball back and forth. I don’t think she’s even really old enough to be able to ‘throw’ it very well. It’s fine, you’ll be able to return her in one piece.”

“Ah, well, if it’s not imposing,” Tadashi murmurs, eyeing Kei and Himawari. She’s got his glasses again and Kei’s red-faced and grumbling as he tries, half-heartedly, to get them back from her. He wonders idly if they thought to pack his spare pair, or if there’s a pair at Kei’s house.

“Absolutely not. It’s a sight in itself to see that jerk being nice,” Shōyō laughs. “I thought you were the only person he’d make that emotionally-constipated face at.”

Tadashi  gives a small snicker; “You don’t give him much credit, do you?”

“Nope,” comes the cheery reply as Shōyō slides past him, spinning the ball between his palms. “Okay, let’s play!”

Tadashi watches as Kei sets Himawari down on the ground, remaining crouched as she hands him back his glasses (a little roughly, he sees Kei wince as the plastic frames get shoved at his chest). She tugs at Kei’s sleeves, pointing excitedly at Shōyō as he sits a few feet away, cross-legged, on the ground with the ball.

He grins as he watches Kei settle onto the grass, nodding at the toddler even though she’s pretty much incoherent at this point—Tadashi’s not sure if it’s just distance, but some of what she’s saying doesn’t even resemble Japanese. Shōyō laughs and rolls the ball gently towards Kei and Himawari. Kei scoops it up and hands it to Himawari, who giggles happily and hugs it.

“It’s as big as she is,” Hitoka murmurs.

Tadashi jolts, looking behind him. “Woah, when did you get there?”

“I called your name,” she replies, laughing. She nudges his arm with her shoulder, “But you were all misty eyed watching them play.” She watches with Tadashi as Kei tries to teach Himawari to throw the ball instead of rolling it.

Tadashi winces as it ends poorly, with Himawari putting her entire weight behind the ‘throw’, and the ball bouncing up into Kei’s chin. “Oh boy,” he mumbles, ready to go intervene. Hitoka grabs his sleeve and puts a finger to her lips.

He chews on his lip anxiously; while he doesn’t actually expect Kei to lose his temper at a child, he does expect a bit more annoyance from his boyfriend, acutely aware that Kei didn’t actually _choose_ to help take care of Himawari. He’s surprised, however, that the only outward sign of any irritation that Kei might have had is a small sigh and a pointed look at Shōyō (who is otherwise occupied laughing so hard he’s slumped back into the grass) before he takes the ball and pats Himawari on the head, and lets her try again.

“He’s not mad,” Hitoka giggles, “He’s so patient with her. I can’t believe it.”

“He’s not a bad person,” Tadashi murmurs, a bit reproachful.

Hitoka gently pulls him from the door; “Stop hovering, they’ll be fine,” she instructs. “And you _know_ that’s not what I meant! He just… seems like the type to be overly awkward with children.”

“Ah, well, he is, a bit,” Tadashi laughs, flushing. “So am I.”

“You really can’t tell,” Hitoka gushes, gesturing for Tadashi to sit at the kitchen table, where she’s laid out their tea and snacks. “She’s really attached to the both of you, you can tell—especially earlier,” she says, beaming. “She’s so cute.”

Tadashi waves a hand dismissively, setting the stuffed hedgehog he’d been holding down on the table as he sits. “It’s because we’re sweet to her,” he says. He scowls slightly, “The rest of the family’s being pretty... well, they seem rather unconcerned with her.”

“Just because you’re nice to a child doesn’t mean they’re going to like you,” Hitoka points out. “Kids are pretty perceptive, especially the really young ones, since that’s all they have. You can really tell that you’re very concerned with her, and so is Tsukishima-kun.”

“Ah, Tsukki’s just helping out though,” Tadashi mumbles; he reaches out and takes the cup of tea Hitoka’s poured for him with a murmur of thanks. “He’s agreed to it because I asked for his help, really.”

Hitoka plucks up a cookie from the snack tray and nibbles on it thoughtfully. “Is that so?” she asks slowly, a sly smirk crossing her face. “I wonder about that.”

“That’s really all there is to it,” Tadashi laughs dismissively. “I’m the only one who’s overly attached already,” he admits, flushing.

“We’ll see,” Hitoka retorts with the tone she used in their third year when the first years would ask for treats after practices, while everyone else knew good and well she and Hinata had drinks and snacks stashed away.

Tadashi’s a bit wary when that tone gets used on him; it makes him nervous when he’s out of the loop regarding Kei. It makes him think too much of the period of time when he wasn’t sure whether or not he had an actual chance or not.

It’s not like it would be a _bad_ thing if Kei was fond of Himawari; it would make taking care of her throughout the week a lot easier even if it would make going back to Tokyo so much harder. He drinks his tea and grabs a cookie to take his mind off of it.

Hitoka seems to sense the change in Tadashi’s mood, so she clears her throat softly. “So, how’s Tokyo?” Hitoka asks, running her fingers against the rim of her glass. She eyes the ring on Tadashi’s finger; “Have you two looked into getting onto each other’s registers like you were talking about when you came for the ceremony?”

Tadashi blushes and shakes his head. He brushes some of the cookie crumbs off of the table into his palm, pouring the crumbs onto a napkin. “Um, we’re pretty content with what we have,” he says. “The register thing is more or less symbolic, and it’s just an inheritance adoption, really. Tsukki’s family wouldn’t mind at all, especially since I’d be taking their name. Honestly, I’m surprised they never pushed for it. But… I think _mine_ would. Even my parents. So we decided against it, because I was worried about what would happen. Besides,” he adds, waving his hand dismissively, “Tsukki says his professors think that some of the prefectures are moving towards addressing it for real. We decided to wait and see if we can officially get married one day. For us, it’s not… Well…”

He squirms a bit in his seat and sighs, tapping his finger idly against his teacup.  He ducks his head shyly, whispering, “We’d like to. But. If it doesn’t ever happen, we’ve just accepted it? Or rather, our day-to-day life is happy without it. For the most part,” he says, “We’re really lucky, because it’s not a huge issue. Our apartment manager doesn’t care as long as the rent gets paid on time, none of our classmates care, and it’s only an issue with my clinic because the director thinks it interferes with my work—he can’t pretend like it will forever, so it’s going to get better,” he reassures her.  “We’ve managed our accounts in such a way that if we had to, we could get by with just one of us working for a while. All it would smooth out is stuff like that… My family… well. That’s different, I guess.”

Hitoka nods and sips at her tea. “And school?” she asks.

Tadashi laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s going. It’s hard, though. For both of us. But it’s fun,” he confesses. “It’s _really_ fun. I enjoy my clinical classes, and it’s just really rewarding to be putting the knowledge to work. Kei’s doing well, too. You can tell he enjoys it when he starts complaining,” he says as Hitoka giggles. “He’s got this internship thing; it’s more like a work study? He gets paid normally, but he’s getting credit for classes, too—with a law firm and they have him answering the public phone lines.”

“No,” Hitoka breathes. She covers her mouth in horror. “No, oh god.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tadashi laughs. “It’s the number potential clients and the media call.”

“Nooooo,” Hitoka groans. “Oh no.”

“I’m telling you, yes. His boss swears up and down he’s made for it,” Tadashi sniggers. “After a good long chat with him, all the frivolous calling’s gone down. They love him.”

“I can’t believe it,” Hitoka laughs. She catches her breath and grins. “So, how’s Kuroo-san and Kenma? Shōyō keeps wanting to go visit all of you, but we can never get our schedules free enough to go,” Hitoka laments.

“They’re well. They’re slaving away on their studio,” Tadashi says. He leans back in his chair when he hears a shriek and Kei’s firm voice. “Hey! Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah that was just the idiot, getting a ball to the face as always,” Kei calls back as Shōyō starts shouting behind him. There’s a squeal that Tadashi recognizes as Himawari’s; it doesn’t sound distressed, but he still feels a bit anxious about the thought of leaving Kei and Shōyō alone with a toddler, with a volleyball. Outside. _With a toddler_. **_With a volleyball._**

Hitoka catches the look on his face and reaches out to pat his hand. “It’s fine,” she says. “… I think. Well, in any case, none of Shōyō’s students have gotten horribly injured?”

“…That’s… reassuring,” Tadashi murmurs slowly. He starts itching with the desire to get up and check on Himawari and Shōyō (Kei can pretty much take care of himself). “…I’m being a mom again aren’t I?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she laughs. “It’s cute. Anyway, Kuroo-san and Kenma’s studio. How’s it going?”

“Oh,” Tadashi murmurs, shaking himself from his distraction. “It’s good; the game is almost ready for release. Kuroo’s setting up some crowdfunding and advertisement campaigns for the summer; they could sell the game off to a larger company to partner with by this point—they’ve had offers,” he says, “But that game, and the business, is their baby. They won’t let anyone touch it.”

“I don’t blame them,” Hitoka laughs, “When you work that hard on something, it’s really hard to hand it off. I’ve had some projects like that myself.”

“Oh?” Tadashi asks as Hitoka scrunches her nose up. “C’mon, tell, tell,” he urges.

“Okay, okay, so, I get this design job for a new business,” she starts, throwing her hand in the air. “To do all of their advertisement  and logo designs and like, I slave away! _Slave_! And so I make them really nice, really pretty, since it’s a fairly upscale place. Then they call, and they want me to put word art over it,” she hisses, “Word art. Like, legitimate _word art_. From a _word processor program._ ”

Tadashi laughs at her scandalized tones, watching as she squeezes her fingers in the air as she laments over the horrible visual design failures of the company. One customer from hell story becomes four and Hitoka coaxes some of Tadashi’s worst clinic stories out of him, including the half-coherent story of the runaway dog he was so fond of before they both start talking about Kei and Shōyō’s lives. She's just started talking about Kageyama's volleyball team and how that's going when Kei comes into the kitchen: 

He's carting a dirty and crying Himawari in his arms. “Is there a place where I can go change her? And maybe put her down for a nap?” he asks, even as Tadashi distinctly hears the muffled wail of ‘no’ from where Himawari’s pushed her face up into Kei’s shoulder. He pats her back softly. She cries louder.

“What’s up?” Tadashi pushes away from the table, frowning as he stands.

“She got a little too tired,” Kei murmurs. “We didn’t really notice how tired she was until she needed to be changed. Sorry,” he adds, looking over at Hitoka, lips pursed. 

“Don’t be,” Hitoka says warmly, “It’s fine. You can clean off the desk in the guest room to change her on. I’m not sure about nap areas; is she too little to put in the bed?”

“Dunno,” Tadashi says slowly. “I think my mom said her car seat can be converted into a little bassinet thingy?”

“I’ll just carry her around like you did the other night,” Kei says with a shrug. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He looks at Tadashi as he starts to push his chair in to follow along; “You can stay and talk. I’ve got a handle on it.” Himawari’s cries start to escalate into full-out screaming and Kei winces, “Probably?” he mumbles, starting off towards the guest room again.

“Ooooh boy,” Tadashi sighs, fidgeting.

“It’ll be fine,” Hitoka says, eyeing Shōyō as he wanders into the kitchen, dirty shoes in hand. “How was it?”

“Fun!” Shōyō chirps, showering grass clippings onto the floor. “She’s really cute; I bet you could make a volleyball player out of her,” he tells Tadashi enthusiastically. “She likes passing! Not that she can really, you know, throw or anything, she just sort of rolls it, but if you encouraged her…!”

“She’s not ours,” Tadashi reminds his friend softly.

Shōyō’s face goes pensive for a moment, lips pursing before he shrugs. “In any case, she’s really cute, and it was fun! I want one!” he says.

Tadashi thinks this is more directed at Hitoka than him, so he keeps his mouth shut as he watches Hitoka’s mouth go flat.

“Absolutely not,” she replies primly.

“Awww, but kids are cute and fun—and I bet Kageyama would want one, too!”

“Absolutely not,” Hitoka repeats.

Tadashi isn’t certain what Kageyama has to do with Shōyō wanting kids, but he definitely does not want to be around for this conversation. “I’m going to… uh, go check on Tsukki,” he says faintly, but neither of his friends hear him, so he grabs Himawari’s stuffed toy and ducks out of the room to strains of Shōyō and Hitoka bickering easily about the merits of children.

Talk about awkward. He pads down the hallway to the guest room, hearing Kei murmuring at Himawari as she cries. “Need help?” he asks.

“I told you I had it,” Kei says, looking up from changing the toddler.

“Just say you need help so I don’t have to listen to Shōyō try to convince Hitoka-chan to have kids,” Tadashi begs, snickering at the face Kei makes. It’s a mix between extreme consternation at the idea and the look of glee he gets when he discovers something he can tease Shōyō about. “For some reason ‘Kageyama would want one too’ is a legitimate argument to make in his favor. I had to flee for my life.”

Kei snorts as he tries to wrestle Himawari into a clean diaper, turning his attention to the little girl as she starts howling again. “Hey, hey, shhh, you’re okay,” he mumbles to her, scooping her back up after he gets the diaper fastened on.

“Is she hungry?”

“I don’t think it would hurt to see if she wants to eat.” Kei jiggles her a bit in his arms before cupping her against his shoulder gently. He steps up behind Tadashi, murmuring a soft, “She wants her mother,” into Tadashi’s ear.

“Oh.” His stomach feels heavy with guilt.

“Don’t make that face,” Kei says, moving to settle on the bed. “It’s not like it’s your fault, or mine. She’s gonna keep wanting her for a while. It’s nothing we can help: we’re just the babysitters.”

“I know, it… it just feels like we should be doing something more than just letting her cry about it,” Tadashi mumbles a bit helplessly as he riffles through the diaper bag for the little lunchbox full of snacks that Sayaka had packed. He pulls a small package of drinkable applesauce and passes it to Kei, who settles Himawari on his lap.

“Hey, monster, drink this,” he murmurs, opening the package and holding it out to Himawari. She turns her face away and outright starts screaming. Kei winces and Tadashi startles; they both start making panicked shushing noises.

Tadashi holds out the hedgehog toy that had worked earlier, “Himawari-chan, Himawari-chan, it’s your toy,” he coos, kneeling at Kei’s feet so he can look up at the girl. He sets it in her lap tentatively.

She ignores it, but leans forward and latches onto Tadashi’s sweater; she nearly slides out of Kei’s lap and Tadashi quickly reaches up to snatch her at the same time Kei latches his arm around her middle, leaning forward to catch her. Tadashi’s head collides with Kei’s chin and he has to fall back onto his butt, hard, blinking dazedly as Himawari cries against his collar.

Kei stares down at him, applesauce dripping from the open container onto his jeans from where he’d clenched his fist in a panic, thinking Himawari was going to fall. He’s uncharacteristically wide-eyed, face pale, the place where they’d collided turning a soft shade of pink.

They stare at each other. Himawari cries. The applesauce sinks into Kei’s jeans, and finally, Tadashi starts laughing. It’s ridiculous, all of it: Kei’s still covered in grass clippings, and he’s got a flower tucked into a buttonhole of his shirt, and Hitoka and Shōyō are bickering about having children in the kitchen while he and Kei are bumbling their way through looking after a little girl who could pass as their own child, and they both have so stupidly become enamored with it.

He laughs because there’s nothing else he can do. Because this was never something that was on their radar, ever; they’re not like their friends, who can casually squabble about having children. They can’t even argue about whether or not they want to get _married_ yet.

He can’t even push it from his mind now, now that he’s seen Kei put a volleyball into the little girl’s hands, seen him try to calm her down, panic when he thinks she’s going to get hurt, get covered in stupid things like portable applesauce packets; not now that he’s got Himawari asleep in his arms again, lulled to sleep by her own exhaustion and the sound of his laughter, had her reach for him and trust he was going to catch her. But this was what Hitoka meant, he realizes.

He breathes in shakily, laughter tapering off finally. He swallows. “What are we going to do with her?” He shifts on the floor until he’s got his back to the edge of the bed.

Kei sighs and starts scrubbing off the applesauce with a towel from the diaper bag. He feels himself scowl. “I don’t know. What we can, I guess.”  He slides down off the edge of the bed, next to Tadashi and wraps his arm around the other man.

Tadashi nestles close, slinging one leg over Kei’s. He rests his head against Kei’s shoulder, Himawari’s head tucked neatly underneath his chin. “And then?”

Kei looks up at the ceiling. “…We go home,” he murmurs. That’s all they can do, he thinks. Do what they can in the time they have, and then leave. This is something they can’t have, he thinks; this sort of life isn’t for people like them, not in families like Tadashi’s.

There’s another option, Tadashi thinks. But he doesn’t say anything—not yet. Not yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes about this chapter:  
> Although same sex couples in Japan can’t get married, some chose to go through inheritance-adoption processes, which is commonly used as an alternative to same-sex marriage. Tsukki would have to adopt Tadashi—since he’s the older party.
> 
> However, in February of this year, Shibuya’s announced practices for better recognition as partners, and provides papers as a proof of partnership starting this April. The story was drafted in early January, and so at this time, the new practices won’t be included.


	7. I'll Be Broken When the Wave Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand now we start touching on the heavier bits.

The time for visits passes and the wake comes far more quickly than Tadashi had anticipated; maybe it’s because he knows that Kei has deliberately been keeping him busy and away from the ever increasing number of family members in his house.  After their visit with Yachi and Shōyō (and later Kageyama, who had accidentally made Himawari cry by shouting at Shōyō), Kei had whisked him away to a sudden dinner visit with Akiteru; the next day, it was a trip back to the Tsukishima house, followed by a long, arduous trip to the local hardware store to help Kei’s mother pick out paint and shelves.

Maybe it’s because he’s preoccupied with keeping Himawari—there are too many people in the house now for her to be around and the over-socialization gets to her quickly. It becomes the easiest thing for her to go with them to Kei’s family home. Easy, he realizes, really just means that no one else wants to deal with her, and his mother is too busy playing hostess to keep up with a fussy toddler on top of everything. But Kei’s mother coos happily over Himawari and spoils her with some of the old toys and mementos she has stored away from Akiteru and Kei’s childhood.

Watching her interact with Himawari makes his heart twinge, especially when she starts dressing the toddler up in some of Kei’s old baby clothes.

“Is it okay, do you think?” Tadashi asks softly, watching Hana button up the back of a dinosaur onesie. “I know you guys were saving some of this stuff for grandkids.”

“Well,” Hana says with a little grin, helping Himawari pull the hood up over her head, “Aki is pretty set into his bachelor life, so I’d rather put these things to use, especially since there’s no telling when her things from her home arrive.”

Tadashi makes a face at the reminder; Himawari had quickly run through the clothes that had been grabbed by his parents when they picked her up from the child services agents, and all that had been left was the new outfit for the wake and the ceremony (he understands being harried, but if they had the time to go buy her something new for the wake, they could have bought her more clothes too). He’s becoming increasingly unhappy with the lack of care the rest of the family seems to take where Himawari is concerned.

“Auntie,” he says carefully, tracing his finger in slow patterns against the kitchen table. He hears a muffled crash followed by Kei’s voice in what he _thinks_ are five-dollar swear words. He ignores it. “What would you think if… if say, Tsukki and I… if we…” He clears his voice and feels himself turn warm. It’s harder to voice the idea that’s been growing in the back of his mind.

There was a seed planted in the back of his heart, and it’s growing into something like a sunflower.

“Whatever you two do, as long as you’ve both decided together and are happy, we’ll support it,” Hana says with a knowing smile. Tadashi is always struck by just how much Kei looks like her. She sets Himawari down onto the floor; the little girl trots over to Tadashi.

“Shishan, rrrr!”

Tadashi laughs and picks her up, lifting her into his lap. “Scary!” he says, nuzzling his nose against her own.

Himawari beams and curls her fingers out, making noises behind her teeth. “Shishan, Shuuki,” she says once she stops.

Tadashi gently wipes off some of the spit from her chin from where her ‘roaring’ ended up more like raspberries; “You wanna go see Tsukki?”

“Shuuki,” she repeats, pointing over Tadashi’s shoulder and leaning against him. “Shuuki.” She stretches her hands up around Tadashi’s shoulders.

“Oi, I’m bleeding,” Kei says behind Tadashi. “Can one of you grab the first aid kid so I don’t bleed all over it?”

Hana clicks her tongue and rises from her seat, “Boys,” she sighs. Tadashi cranes his neck to peer behind him at his lover; Kei has one hand clenched around his palm, blood trickling out around his fingers.

“Geesh, Kei! What did you _do_?”

Kei shrugs. “Some of the shelving unit stuff fell over and I went to catch it,” he explains, “And the hanging brackets got me.”

Tadashi stands and sets Himawari down on the floor, where she scoots herself over to latch onto Kei’s ankle. He takes the blond’s hand in his own, prying Kei’s hand away from his palm. “Geh! It’s kind of bleeding everywhere.”

“That’s why I was holding it, idiot,” Kei snipes without heat. “And why is the kid in a dinosaur costume?”

“It’s cute,” Tadashi answers, “It was yours, so you can’t be mean about it.” He leads Kei over to the sink, trying not to laugh at how Kei has to shuffle along with Himawari wrapped around his ankle. He thinks she might be chewing on Kei’s jeans, but he doesn’t comment.

“I wasn’t going to be,” Kei sulks, hissing as Tadashi sticks his hand under the sink and turns the water on over the cut. “I’m just wondering _why_. We’re going to have to change her clothes in an hour or so anyway for the wake anyway.”

“It’s cute,” Tadashi repeats, shrugging. “She likes it. Don’t you, Ri-chan?”

“ _Rrrrrrrrr_.”

“I think she’s broken,” is Kei’s flat reply as his jeans get slobbered on.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t do the same thing,” Hana laughs, patting her youngest son on the back. “If you don’t believe me, I’m sure there’s at least _one_ video around.”

Kei clears his throat loudly as Tadashi gives a gleeful cackle, “First aid kit. Kind of still bleeding.”

“Don’t be a killjoy, Tsukki,” Tadashi complains. He takes the kit from Hana with a small murmured thanks; she grins at him and leans forward to scoop Himawari up off of her son’s leg. Tadashi fumbles to open the kit one-handed, but manages. “How’s it going up there?”

Kei shrugs; he watches as Tadashi dabs at the cut with a cotton ball, then over to where Himawari’s bouncing in his mother’s lap. “It’s going. I’ve packed and sorted through a lot of my stuff; it would go a lot faster if a certain someone wasn’t cooing over the same baby pictures they’ve seen for the last oh, decade and a half?”

“You kicked me out!” Tadashi whines.

“Because you were giggling over that box of old school papers.”

“Those were very important,” Tadashi says, affronted. “It was cute that we passed physical notes instead of texting in class. I didn’t know you kept them.”

From the kitchen table, Hana snorts. Kei turns pink; he clears his throat. “In any case, I’m going to stop for the day, it’s nearly time to leave,” he says.

Tadashi nods and rubs antibiotic ointment onto the cut and starts wrapping gauze around it. “We should probably just go ahead and go over,” he murmurs; “It’ll give us time to make sure Himawari gets a bath and food.” He ties off the gauze and pats Kei’s hand, “Done.”

Kei knocks his forehead against Tadashi’s. “You’re not going to kiss it better?” he whispers with a small smirk. He brushes his knuckles against Tadashi’s cheek and tucks a lock of hair behind his lover’s ear.

“ _Tsukki_ ,” Tadashi whines before laughing. “You big baby.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the upturned corner of Kei’s lips.

“I was gravely wounded,” Kei huffs, laughing as Tadashi rolls his eyes dramatically. He leans back up against the counter, watching as Tadashi scoops Himawari up into his arms and lifts her high.

“Are you ready to say bye to Hana-obachan?” he asks her as she giggles and shrieks in delight.

Tadashi lets her wiggle about in the air, beaming at her as she coos and reaches for his hair. Kei pushes off the counter and leans down to hug his mother. “Thanks,” he whispers.

She squeezes him and kisses his temple, much to his chagrin. “You two remember to come back and clean up the mess you made, okay?” she tells Kei, smirking. “I’m not about to start cleaning up after you again after all these years.”

Tadashi snickers; Kei feels himself flush, but he rolls his eyes. “Sure thing, mom,” he says, picking up Himawari’s diaper bag for Tadashi.

Tadashi leans down and hugs Hana with one arm, kissing her cheek. “Thank you for lunch, auntie,” he says. “And for all the toys and clothes for Himawari-chan.”

“It’s no problem,” Hana says warmly. She stands and follows them out to the front door. “If you two need anything else, just let me know. Place incense for me during the wake.”

Tadashi nods and hoists Himawari a bit higher on his hip. She copies Hana’s wave and starts chewing on the edge of Tadashi’s ponytail.

“The kid’s slobbering on you,” Kei points out, brushing Tadashi’s hair away from Himawari’s grasp. Tadashi shudders and makes a face as the damp ends brush against his neck.

“I know,” Tadashi chuckles, lowering Himawari into her car seat. “It’s kind of disgusting,” he says cheerfully, buckling her in even though she starts squirming. He gently taps her nose and she laughs. “Ri-chan, Ri-chan, you need to sit still for a moment, okay?”

Kei crosses his arms and watches as Tadashi makes sure that Himawari is safely in her car seat. It’s strange to watch; he still hasn’t gotten used to the idea that Tadashi, _his_ Tadashi who he’s known since he was ten years old, can still surprise him. He wordlessly hands off the diaper bag when Tadashi turns and holds his hands out for it.

Tadashi is smitten with Himawari. And the scary thing is, he is too. But she’s not theirs, and it’s going to hurt when they have to leave. He doesn’t know who’s going to take care of her after this all ends; he almost hopes it will be Hiro and Sayaka so they can come visit Himawari, but truthfully?

He doesn’t want them to raise another child.

He loves Tadashi so much that sometimes he wants to tuck Tadashi into his pocket and carry him with him, always. Sometimes it hurts to love him so much. Tadashi is beautiful and brilliant and brave; at his heart, he is truly a good person. And he’s so thankful that Tadashi exists, that he was born and raised and grew into the person he is. He knows that without Hiro and Sayaka, and how they raised Tadashi, that Tadashi would not be the man that Kei loves so fiercely. Tadashi wouldn’t be Tadashi.

But there are also portions of Tadashi that are broken and dark and pitiful, that are only that way because of how he was raised. He knows that some people think that as long as a parent doesn’t put their hands on their children, whatever they do is fine.

He is not one of those people.

Their reluctance to take action in regards to Tadashi, their mild-mannered kindness, their half-heartedness. It makes him angry—he’s never once had to deal with the things that Tadashi’s had to. Truthfully, Kei had never cared that the other students were afraid of him because he was tall and was prone to saying things he shouldn’t, but he remembered his mother comforting him after his first week of kindergarten. She hadn’t told him it was his fault, but she’d told him to be thoughtful, to be mindful, but not to worry.

But Sayaka… Kei wasn’t privy to this information until late in high school: He remembers Tadashi crouching down in the playground, tracing his finger into the dirt like they were elementary students again, voice soft and sad. He said that when he was being bullied, no one had stood up for him at all. Not even his own parents. Not even when he told them what was happening and cried, asked to be taken to another school, taken out, _anything_.

Sayaka had told him, he said, to let it happen. To forgive them. To let the other students sneer at him and hurt him, and to turn the other cheek and forgive them. To be friends with them, and be a good, loyal boy, and that it would stop on its own if he did that. He remembers the way Tadashi hung his head and dug his finger into the ground, turning up rocks as he whispered about how awful he felt for not being able to.

He said that the worse it got, the more Sayaka insisted that he wasn’t trying hard enough to be friendly, and that’s what the bullies needed, was for him to be their friend. That he thought that she knew best because she was a school teacher herself, and she knew the kind of things that happened at home with children like that.

Tadashi had looked up at him and laughed softly. _“Tsukki was the only person who ever stood up for me,”_ he’d said.

Kei can’t even remember that first meeting. He’s glad it happened, though. That he’d felt compelled, for some reason, to break it up and sneer down at them. But since hearing that, he’d been dead-set on being the one to protect Tadashi. He always had been, so he always would be. It’s hard, though, to protect someone from their family.

It’s harder still to protect them from themselves. Tadashi never feels like he’s enough. That he has to make up for his failures. He works himself to exhaustion and is too kind for his own good. The lesson has been ground into his skin—be kind, be loyal—until it’s a compulsion that leaves Tadashi shaking in his own skin and falling into long periods of quiet where everything about him is lessened, dulled.

Kei loves these bits of Tadashi just as much as he loves the brighter parts of him. Coaxing his lover into his morning routines, picking up forgotten prescriptions, and holding him when it gets too rough is part of loving Tadashi just as much as laughing drunkenly and slow-dancing in the kitchen is.

He’s not resentful of Tadashi for a single second. He does, however, hold a grand deal of it towards Sayaka and Hiro. He’s done his best to push it aside—people _can_ and _do_ change, but it takes a good deal of effort, he’s come to realize, and they’re…

They’re a bit faint of heart. They’re nice people, but… He can’t forgive them for the pieces of their son that they broke.

He doesn’t quite think they deserve a second child. But then, better them than any of the rest of the family, he thinks.

“Ah? Tsukki, what’s wrong? You have a strange look on your face,” Tadashi comments, closing the backdoor gently. “Does your hand hurt?”

“No,” Kei answers, studying Tadashi’s face carefully. He reaches up and runs a knuckle against the curve of Tadashi’s jaw.

It’s all he can do to protect Tadashi, especially when Tadashi—sweet, stubborn, bullheaded Tadashi—is determined to barrel headfirst into situations that put him in a position to be worn down and hurt. There’s nothing he can do for the kid other than hope that she doesn’t ever grow up to be in the situations that Tadashi was in.

Tadashi tips his head to the side, taking Kei’s hand in his own. “Tsukki?”

“Just thinking,” Kei comments. “C’mon, let’s go. I wouldn’t dare be late to the family meeting before the wake.”

Tadashi sighs. He squeezes Kei’s hand before dropping it. “I think we’re discussing arrangements,” he says slowly as he makes his way to the passenger side door. He slides into the car. “The wake is mostly just for family; most of their friends can only come for the memorial service, but according to mom, there’s quite a bit of extended family coming. She said she got a few calls from her husband’s estranged members.”

“I see,” Kei says slowly. He climbs into the car and starts it. The ride back to Tadashi’s house is quiet save for the sound of Himawari’s tuneless, sing-song babbling. There are more cars than ever pulled into the drive. Kei has to park a bit away from the house in the road.

Similarly, the house is packed. Cousins and second-cousins and strange relations crowd the hallways; some are already dressed for the wake in black suits and dresses; there are a few formal kimonos on the elder members of the family.

Himawari pushes her face into Tadashi’s neck, whimpering at the sudden press of people around them. He hears her tearfully whimper for her mother. He exchanges a look with Kei, who shrugs unhelpfully.

Kei does, however, position himself right behind Tadashi, hand on the slighter man’s back protectively. He uses his height and intimidating demeanor to guide them through the milling people, seeking out Sayaka. They find her at the table in the formal dining room, rubbing a woman’s shoulders comfortingly. Hiro and the rest of Tadashi’s aunts and uncles are also at the table, looking solemnly at one another. None of them look up at Tadashi and Kei when they enter.

“Oh, I think that’s…” Tadashi says softly to Kei as Himawari stirs in his arms.

She looks over at the table and instantly brightens from the impending stranger-induced meltdown, twisting in Tadashi’s arms. “Obaachan!” she shouts just as Tadashi finishes his own thought.

Tadashi struggles to hold onto her, and Kei leans forward as well, but she starts kicking and flailing in an attempt to wiggle free, and she slips free of Tadashi just as he starts to lean forward to put her down. She doesn’t exactly fall, but she does tumble a bit on the ground.

Himawari picks herself up and toddles over to her grandmother, tugging happily on the woman’s kimono. 

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi blurts out as every eye at the table turns to him. He can feel his face start to burn. He can’t move under the force of their gazes, and can only watch as Himawari’s grandmother bats away the little girl.

“I can’t stand seeing her,” the woman says, resolutely ignoring Himawari’s ever-increasingly loud cries. “Please take her away. I don’t want her.”

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi repeats helplessly. He still can’t seem to move. He can’t believe it; he knew, of course, that his mother had said that his aunt didn’t want to see Himawari before, but he thought that given another day or two, and faced with the child herself, maybe Miwa would want to see her granddaughter. “But she obviously wants to see you,” he whispers.

“Tadashi,” Sayaka says warningly. Tadashi gapes at her.

Kei steps forward and grabs Himawari from where she’s trying to climb into Miwa’s lap. She starts crying as soon as he pulls her away. He turns and pushes at Tadashi with his shoulder to get him to move. “C’mon,” he says. He continues to nudge Tadashi all the way out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

Thankfully, it’s empty. Kei closes the door between the kitchen and the dining room with his foot, and probably with more force than was necessary. Tadashi feels useless.

Kei sighs softly and passes Himawari to Tadashi. “It’s okay,” he tells Tadashi. Or maybe he’s telling both of them that it’s alright, because he kisses both of their foreheads. Himawari stops crying  and starts sniffling loudly.

Kei reaches out and rubs his sleeve against her snotty face. “Shh, it’s okay,” he repeats. He rubs his sleeve against his jeans.

Himawari peers around the kitchen. “Shishan,” she says after a moment, still sniffling. “Kaa-san? Tou-san? Want.”

The question shakes Tadashi out of his helpless stupor: He adjusts Himawari in his arms, looking worriedly over at Kei. Kei gives him a side-eyed glance and a slight downward tick of his lips, a small insight into his own discomfort over the question. “Well…they’re…”

“Bad?” She asks, pointing to herself, “Me?”

“What? No, you aren’t bad,” Tadashi answers.

“Baasan,” Himawari says quietly, tears building up in her eyes again. Her mouth pinches and quivers.

“Oh, no, no,” Tadashi soothes, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “You weren’t bad, your grandma is just upset, it’s okay.”

Kei’s hand presses softly against his shoulders in a quiet warning. Tadashi looks up to find a few cousins looking at him warily from the hallway, and it makes him angry. All he’s doing is comforting her—he wants to shout at them that if they have a problem with how he’s handling her, they can step up and try themselves.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets Himawari nuzzle up against his chin, the hood of her little dinosaur onesie falling around her neck. “C’mon nap time, Ri-chan,” he whispers. He can tell she’s upset and tired because she doesn’t even protest, she just clenches onto his shirt and gives a small whine. Snot and tears and drool dampen his shirt where she pushes her face against his shoulder.

He winds his way through the house, doing his best to dodge relatives. He has to pick through a group of very distant cousins at the foot of the stairs. They look at him strangely, the sort of blank-eyed herd animal stare that he recognizes as the look of people who had just been interrupted by the very people they were talking about. He swallows hard and slides past them the best he can, banging his elbow against the wall in an attempt to not bump into anyone.

“Watch it,” someone mutters.

“When you stand in front of stairs or doors, you should expect to be knocked over,” Kei says frostily.

Tadashi doesn’t have to look behind him to know that the cousin (second? third? He’s not sure) had been talking to Kei and not him. He also doesn’t have to look to know what happened, either. He decides it’s not worth the effort to scold Kei for deliberately bumping into someone, because, really? He thinks Kei has a point.

He climbs up the stairs, resisting the urge to sprint. He feels vaguely suffocated by the close press of people and the underlying murmurs of gossip. He wants to leave. He wants to go back to Tokyo to his and Kei’s tiny apartment where it’s never crowded like this, even when it’s stuffed full of people. Where he and Kei can do what they like and he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.

But he wants to watch after Himawari too.

The idea is only half-formed in the back of his mind. But it’s there. And it’s growing.

Himawari remains teary-eyed and subdued through her bath and lets Tadashi put her down for a nap without a single complaint. She cuddles up to her stuffed animal and puts her thumb in her mouth and gives a quiet whimper before closing her eyes. Tadashi pets her hair while he waits for her to fall asleep; beside him, Kei has his arm around his waist, and he hums, very quietly, under his breath.

Tadashi thinks it might be a lullaby. The idea unfurls a few leaves in the warmth of Kei’s tune.

Slowly, Himawari relaxes and falls asleep; the pinch in her brows smoothes out, but the turn of her mouth doesn’t. Tadashi hates that she’s so unhappy. He sighs and withdraws his hand from her head, turning to nestle against Kei’s chest.

Kei drops his chin and rests it on Tadashi’s head, clasping his fingers together at the small of the brunet’s back.

“I don’t want to go back down there,” Tadashi says quietly.

“Then let’s not,” Kei says simply. “Sayaka-san will come get us when we’re wanted.”

“I don’t think we’re particularly wanted,” Tadashi says with a weak laugh.

“Needed, then,” Kei corrects.

“That,” Tadashi agrees.

Kei unlaces his fingers and leads Tadashi to the bed. He settles against the headboard, letting Tadashi crawl into his lap and drape himself against Kei. Tadashi’s arms loop loosely around Kei’s shoulders and Kei rubs his back softly. “Take a nap, Tadashi,” he murmurs softly. “Just don’t think; take some time for yourself.”

Tadashi nods against Kei and closes his eyes. “How are we supposed to even have a wake when the closest relatives don’t even want to see their daughter? She’s supposed to be seated with them, even though she’s so young.”

“Didn’t I _just_ tell you not to think?” Kei retorts, gently tugging Tadashi’s hair free of its ponytail so he could run his fingers through it. “That sounds like thinking to me.”

“Mm, you caught me,” Tadashi laughs. He falls silent, and surprisingly enough, Kei starts humming again as he slides his fingers through Tadashi’s hair, just loud enough to cut over the noise murmuring up from downstairs.

Like this, with his eyes closed and face tucked against Kei’s neck, it’s not unlike being back in their Tokyo apartment. He curls his feet up closer to him and focuses on the vibrations of sound against his cheek and fingers in his hair and relaxes. They’re at home, tucked together on the tiny sofa. Behind them is the kitchen with its obnoxiously loud fridge and hidden away laundry room and the small tray of succulents they’ve propagated off of their terrarium in the bedroom. They’ll eventually have to stop cuddling and go on to do errands and chores and other less fun things, but the moment is only for them; they need the time to just sit and hold each other, even though they’re always together.

The feeling of being suffocated lessens, and something tight comes loose in Tadashi’s chest. He sighs and nuzzles against the curve of Kei’s jaw, “Sorry, Tsukki,” he murmurs softly.

Kei laughs and squeezes Tadashi tightly. He leans down and presses his forehead against Tadashi’s. “Yeah, okay,” he says. He squints at Tadashi as the slighter man opens his eyes. “You’re really bad at following directions,” he points out.

Tadashi tips his head back and bumps noses with Kei, laughing as the moment knocks the blond’ glasses askew. He reaches up to fix them, but Kei catches his hand mid-gesture and keeps Tadashi’s palm flat against his cheek. He presses his lips to Tadashi’s, and falls into the familiar, warm pattern of kissing his lover.

He wants to take Tadashi and strip him and shower him in kisses and soft touches, pull him over his hips and feel Tadashi’s full weight on his stomach and push sweaty hair out of his face. He wants to cage Tadashi in his arms and hold him and sink into him, reassure him and pamper him with everything he has. Keep him close and warm and spoiled with love.

He settles for pressing quick, chaste kisses to Tadashi’s lips over and over until Tadashi giggles and grabs his cheeks with both hands.

“Tsukki, Tsukki,” Tadashi laughs, beaming up at the blond, “What are you doing?”

“Kissing,” Kei huffs.

“Yes, but why?”

Kei purses his lips and feels his cheeks warm. Tadashi’s teasing him, and he knows it. He pouts over it. Tadashi just laughs again and straightens Kei’s glasses and leans into the blond.

“I love you too,” Tadashi answers. He settles himself comfortably in Kei’s lap, reaching up to brush his fingers against blond curls. Kei rewards him with a soft smile and they sit like that, comfortably drinking in each other’s warmth and support until there’s a tentative knock on the bedroom door.

Sayaka opens the door a bit and sticks her head through the crack. “Boys, we need you two downstairs to discuss the details of the wake and funeral,” she says.

Kei doesn’t miss the look that passes across her face at the sight of them curled up against each other—it looks like a grimace of pity. Like she knows the environment is hurting her son. He drags his eyes away from her.

“Is Himawari-chan asleep?” she asks quietly.

Tadashi slides away from Kei and stretches. “Mm, yeah,” he says softly, glancing over at the crib.

Sayaka nods, “Good. We’ll have the family meeting and then you two will need to change and wake her,” she says slowly. She’s already dressed for the wake in a simple black shift dress; for someone who was so stringently ‘traditional’, Kei’s surprised she’s not in a kimono.

Kei rises from the bed, hand finding its way to Tadashi’s lower back. He can’t lie and say that he’s not feeling a bit anxious as well; large groups of people don’t make him as uncomfortable as they do Tadashi, but the earlier atmosphere, and the atmosphere in general, is not very welcoming towards him. He knows this habit is comforting to Tadashi, but it also soothes him.

Sayaka’s eyes flick between them and she opens her mouth. “You two might, ah…” she says slowly, trailing off.

Kei feels Tadashi’s back stiffen underneath his fingers. He rubs his thumb softly against Tadashi’s spine. “Might what?” he asks softly.

Sayaka looks away from Kei, down the hall, then back to them. Kei doesn’t even have to look over at Tadashi to see what sort of face he’s making—he’s sure Sayaka’s expression is the same as Tadashi’s. Tadashi looks like his father, but his expressions are his mother’s—same pinched, worried, lips and nervous eyes. It hurts her to have to say, to have to explain. He knows it hurts Tadashi to hear it. “You two might not want to…” again, her voice falters. She makes a nervous gesture towards them.

“It’s not like I’m grabbing his ass,” Kei says shortly. “If we’re not allowed to show physical support for each other, then I would request that the other married couples in attendance refrain as well,” he continues, falling back into the clipped, formal patterns the elocutionist had taught them to speak with during their mock trials and presentations. It separated him from the situation, helped him tamp down the urge to tear into Tadashi’s mother.

He doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t remove his hand. Tadashi doesn’t do anything either. The three of them stand in silence before Sayaka nods and gives a little half-shrug. “I don’t see a problem with it, and I told them, but,” she says.

“But here we are,” Kei cuts in. “It happens. Quite frequently, it seems.”

Tadashi shoots Kei a reproachful look, but he feels something in his chest start to coil tightly. He looks at his mother and sets his jaw; he shifts just a bit closer to Kei, his hip brushing against the blond’s. “And don’t you dare say it’s not the same since we’re not married,” he says softly. Kei laughs quietly beside him and gives him a soft pat.

“I wouldn’t,” Sayaka mumbles.

“Just making sure,” Tadashi replies.

Sayaka stares at Tadashi for a long moment, face impassive. Tadashi stares back. She shrugs again and turns wordlessly from the door. Kei remains silent as they follow after her, but he lets Tadashi crowd close to him as they make their way downstairs. The quiet, relaxed warmth has faded from Tadashi’s eyes; Kei dislikes how easy it is to take away Tadashi’s feelings of comfort.

He’ll address it later, he thinks. What they have to focus on is what’s happening now, the family meeting.

Everyone is already gathered and grouped up in bunches. Kei notes in distaste that everyone is already in their formal attire, shifting the power balance and status quo in their favor. He also notices that the only place for them to sit is the sofa while everyone else is facing it, like the entire meeting is an interview. He dislikes it instantly. The entire situation focuses everyone’s attention on them; their aim is to put them in a place that is very uncomfortable.

It sets his nerves on high alert.

They settle on the sofa, knees knocking together. Kei keeps a hand on Tadashi’s leg, jaw tight. The looks the action garners makes Tadashi go stiff beside him; he squeezes Tadashi’s knee softly.

“Well,” Sayaka says slowly, “Let’s make our arrangements.”

“Yes,” an aunt agrees. Kei recognizes her voice if not her face—it’s the aunt who scolded Sayaka in the guest room their second day of the visit. Kei fixes his eyes on her. “As the second oldest sibling, I’ve set the ceremony up since Neechan isn’t up to it,” she says, nodding towards Miwa. “The wake is tonight, and the funeral is tomorrow, followed by the cremation,” she continues, glancing at a piece of paper in her lap.

Tadashi thinks she sounds rather professional about the entire thing; he wonders if this is how she copes.

“The memorial will follow on the seventh day, which means the day after the funeral,” she continues. “Because of… ah, the… circumstances of death, certain traditions cannot be upheld.” She looks up from her paper and at Tadashi and Kei. “We want you to keep Himawari from the altar.”

“Excuse me?” Tadashi says faintly. “Why? She’s direct relations; she needs to be up there with you and Miwa-obasan and dad…”

“Neechan doesn’t want to see her,” the aunt says.

“Hirako-chan,” Sayaka murmurs.

“She doesn’t want to see her,” Hirako repeats. “She’s too young to be up front for the ceremony, and she’s had problems following directions.”

“She’s barely even _two_ ,” Tadashi says over Hirako, who keeps speaking like she didn’t hear him.

“She also has a tendency to throw tantrums—”

“She’s a _toddler_ ,” Tadashi says, even louder this time. He leans forward on the sofa shoulders tight. Kei squeezes his knee again, this time in warning, but he shoos it away.

“ _Tadashi,_ ” Sayaka hisses. Hiro puts a hand on her shoulder, face set into an unreadable scowl.

“And ultimately,” Tadashi’s aunt continues, staring at Tadashi, “She doesn’t understand what’s going on anyway, so we _all_ —” She throws a contemptuous look at Sayaka and Hiro at the statement, “Think that it would be for the best if you two kept her in the back away from immediate family and mourners.”

“She should be allowed to participate in the ceremony!” Tadashi says angrily, “It’s not that hard to hold her, she can hold the incense and if you’re patient, you can tell her what to do and she’ll do it! She’s going to cry, get over it, she’s upset her parents are gone.”

“We think that seeing the altar will upset her,” Hirako says, “As she doesn’t know her parents are dead.”

“Well, death is sort of a hard concept for children, so of course it’s going to upset her,” Tadashi huffs out.

“No, she doesn’t know,” Hirako says. “In any case, you should keep her back today at the wake, and then at the funeral. We’ll see about the memorial service.”

“Wait, she doesn’t know?”

“No one told her,” Hiro says finally. He shoots a reproachful look at his sisters. “No one was really… sure how to do it. It never happened.”

“What do you mean, no one’s told her?” Tadashi asks, lips pursing into a frown.

“She wouldn’t understand anyway,” his aunt says dismissively. “As you said, she’s barely even two.”

“She’s old enough to notice that her parents are _gone_ ,” Tadashi replies; he feels lightheaded. He finds himself on his feet suddenly, slinging his hand out in an expansive gesture of frustration. “She might not get it, yeah, if you just said ‘hey, your parents are dead’, but… She should be told they’re not going to come back and it’s not her fault!”

“Says the child who’s never raised children of their own,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “She’ll forget about it and move on.”

“Maybe it speaks more to _your_ parenting that your children wouldn’t have missed you,” Kei says quietly from his seat behind Tadashi. He reaches up and gently grabs Tadashi’s hand to pull him back down onto the couch.  Tadashi is shaking in his grasp; he rolls his thumb against his lover’s palm slowly. “I think she should be told, even if she grows up to forget being told or not understanding what it means,” he continues into the shocked silence. “…We’ve easily spent the most time with her, this week, and she deserves to know before the wake.”

No one says a thing. Kei fixes his eyes first on Hirako, whose face is red and livid, mouth opening and closing as she tries to formulate a response. He then levels his gaze at Miwa; he regards her as coolly as he can, as if she was a client. “If no one wants to tell her, we will, though I think it would be best… if she heard it from someone she’s more familiar with?”

He watches as Miwa shakes her head ever so slightly, tears sliding down her face. Tadashi makes a noise beside him that Kei wishes he didn’t have to hear; it’s a pained, feral sounding noise. He clamps his hand tightly around Tadashi’s as he hears the man’s intake of breath. “So then we’ll need to explain why her grandmother is deliberately ignoring her. I see.”

He stands and pulls Tadashi with him. He tucks his arm tightly around Tadashi’s waist, an act of outright rebellion if there ever was one. His intentions are more geared towards support for his lover than angering the rest of the family, but the pinched and outraged looks on their faces are not to be missed. “If your intent was to spare her from topics you feel she is too young for,” he says formally, coolly, “I’m afraid you’re doing more harm than you are help. We’ll get her ready for the wake, and keep her from the altar, per your wishes.”

He gives a small bow, not enough to really be formal but enough to convey that the action was done mockingly. He keeps his arm tight around Tadashi, pulling his lover along. He walks calmly even though he wants to press his heels into his stride and _leave_ , but he wants them to watch their exit. He knows he’s done himself no favors, but he’d never set out to do that.

He only pauses once they’re upstairs and safely in the privacy of Tadashi’s room. Tadashi continues to tremble against him, and he can feel where the brunet’s fists are tightened against his sides. Kei turns and gathers Tadashi against him, hands smoothing against the tight muscles of Tadashi’s back. Tadashi hiccups against Kei’s neck, tension growing tighter in his neck and shoulders until it feels like he’ll snap in half. “Shhh, shh,” Kei urges, “Breathe. Breathe.”

Tadashi gives a choked sob before struggling to take in a shuddering breath. The tension in him breaks and he starts to cry, muffling himself against Kei’s neck. Kei rocks them back and forth, tucking his face against Tadashi’s hair. “I know,” he murmurs, “I know. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“Why are they like that?” Tadashi cries. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kei murmurs softly. “I don’t. I don’t understand it either.”

“I never—I didn’t realize they didn’t—poor baby, poor baby, she thinks they’re going to—”

“I know,” Kei repeats.

“What are we going to do?” Tadashi sobs.

“What we can,” he murmurs.


	8. As You End What She's Begun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transitional chapter here. Welp.

“What are we going to _do_?” Tadashi asks.

Kei tightens his arms around Tadashi, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “What we can,” he answers. He feels Tadashi take a shuddering breath and start hiccupping. He runs his hands up and down Tadashi’s shoulders, feeling the damp press of Tadashi’s wet face against his neck. “We’ll just… do what we can do,” he repeats a bit helplessly.

“It’s because they hate us,” Tadashi cries, fingers curling tightly into Kei’s shirt. Kei can feel his lover’s nails bite into him through the fabric. “They’re doing this because they hate us—she keeps thinking they’re going to come back, but they—” His voice breaks and there’s a wet sound as Tadashi both sobs and chokes on it, breath coming out too shallow and quickly for Kei’s liking.

“Woah, hey,” Kei murmurs, grabbing Tadashi’s shoulders. He knows what's happening and he hates that this is what Tadashi's family does to him. “Shhh. Stop.” He gently pries himself away from Tadashi, ushering him forward to sit on the bed. He kneels between Tadashi’s knees, looking up at the brunet. “Look at me. Look at me, okay?”

He reaches up and cups Tadashi’s damp face between his hands. It's been a while since he's had to do this, but it comes back like it's hasn't been a while since Tadashi's last major attack. “Tadashi. Look at me? Okay? Listen to me,” he says softly, waiting until Tadashi's wild eyes settle on his own. “Good, good, you're doing good. Now I want you to breathe, in and out, can you do that?” He pauses. “I want you to do that. In, okay? In. Good. Count. One. Two. Now breathe out. Count.”

Tadashi exhales shakily, choking on his sobs. “Again,” Kei urges, rubbing his thumbs against Tadashi’s cheeks. “And again.” Slowly, Tadashi calms down to just the occasional little gasping cry, face wet and nose streaming. “Tadashi, I want you to listen to me, can you do that?” he asks, voice low and urgent. 

He waits until Tadashi nods shakily. He pulls his sleeve over his hand and gently starts wiping up the snot and tears off of Tadashi’s face. “I don’t think they didn’t tell her because they dislike us in particular,” he says softly. “You’ve said it yourself, that everyone is very upset and that the first thing to slip everyone’s mind is the baby. That it’s not right, but that it happens. Didn’t you say that?”

“I—I did, but—they—”

“Shh. I know.” He doesn't take his eyes from Tadashi even as he rubs his shirtsleeve on Tadashi’s jeans.

Tadashi gives a shaky laugh, “Tsukki, that’s disgusting.”

“It’s _your_ snot,” Kei says with a quick smile. He stares up at Tadashi and thinks about his next words. It’s hard for him to carve out some sort of compassion for these people, especially when they’ve pushed his lover to a breaking point. Instead he starts with what’s easier. He keeps his voice low, “Now listen to me, I love you. I love you. My mother loves you and so does my father, and Niisan adores you. All of our friends care for you; you have people that will do anything for you. _I_ would do anything for you. I love you.”

“Tsukki, you said that you loved me three times,” Tadashi mumbles, sniffing loudly. There’s still snot dripping from his nose.

Kei reaches up and rubs it away. “I did,” he agrees. “My point is that you shouldn’t focus on the people that don’t like you. I know it’s hard, _really_ hard. It gets to me too.” It hurts to admit that it does. But he’s learned that he has to accept these things; he can’t just swallow them down like he did when he was in elementary school, faced with an older brother who had lied to him. It breaks his heart, though, to have grown up, basically, with Tadashi and being as familiar with Tadashi’s family as he was his own, only to have that door slammed in his face as well. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it hurts Tadashi, but it still _hurts._ Even years later, he feels the sting of it, and it makes him wary. But he accepted that it hurts, and he moves forward. Maybe it makes him a little coldhearted, but in the end, all that matters to him is his life with Tadashi. “I know that sometimes it’s hard for you to even accept it at all. Because you still love them.”

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No,” Kei answers. He rubs his thumbs gently over Tadashi’s cheeks. “You love a lot. It’s not bad. But you have to… just focus on me, okay? It’s selfish, but for right now, I want you to just focus on me. I love you no matter what. You don’t hear it a lot but I know you know, so when they’re like that, just… just think ‘fuck them’.”

“I’d rather not,” Tadashi says shyly.

Kei snorts. He pats Tadashi’s cheeks, smirking up at him. “Not literally, stupid,” he drawls, earning a soft giggle from his lover. “What they’re doing… yeah, some of it might have to do with how they feel about us, personally. But most of it is… they don’t want to deal with the messy things. Putting aside their own grief to handle a toddler and figure out how to tell her that her parents are dead is messy; dealing with the aftermath is messy. Standing up against traditions and what’s seen as ‘obscene’ and ‘inappropriate’ is messy, and… what it is is that they’re scared.”

Tadashi leans forward and Kei rises up onto his knees and they meet midway. Tadashi’s arms go around him and Kei catches Tadashi around the waist as he slides off of the bed. Their foreheads and noses bump a bit painfully, and Kei’s glasses catch on Tadashi’s hair but they ignore it.

“I know you don’t like them; I know you don’t want to forgive them,” Tadashi whispers into Kei’s ear. It means so much, that Kei is willing to make concessions for his family. He squeezes against Kei as tightly as he can. He wishes he could hold onto his lover so tightly that their skin would grow together and he could sink into Kei’s bones and, together, they would be something stronger than they are now.

“I don’t,” Kei agrees. “But I like _you_. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.” He settles back down onto the floor, pulling Tadashi down with him. He presses a soft kiss to Tadashi’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Tadashi answers honestly. His laugh is brittle and disparaging in Kei’s ears.

Kei smoothes a hand through Tadashi’s hair, a small smile tugging at his lips at Tadashi’s earnestness. It was so simple a thing, and yet it caused Tadashi so much trouble because people took advantage of sincerity and loyalty. Kei remembers envying the easy way that Tadashi could convey his emotions when they were younger. “Compared to ten minutes ago?”

“Yes,” Tadashi answers promptly. He leans into Kei with his full weight. “Kei,” he murmurs, voice pained, “What are we supposed to _do_?”

“We tell her,” Kei answers. “I… I guess we can… Google it. There’s got to be something on the internet… to walk us through how to… How to do it.”

“Yeah,” Tadashi agrees. He doesn’t move and Kei doesn’t press him to. He waits until Tadashi moves on his own, scrubbing his face with his hands. He leans back against the bed and Kei shifts until they’re side by side.

Kei fishes his phone from his pocket and taps open the browser app; he types in the search terms, and reads a few articles out loud to Tadashi before they decide on a plan.

“I… guess I’ll wake her,” Tadashi says slowly.

“Yeah,” Kei answers.

Neither of them move. They both feel the weariness in their bones. It’s exhausting, this up-down-down-up cycle of being around Tadashi’s family. Tadashi winds his fingers around Kei’s.

“You’ll help out?”

“The best I can,” Kei offers. Tadashi squeezes his fingers. Kei turns his head and studies Tadashi for a moment before leaning forward to press his lips to the other’s.

Tadashi tips his head back and parts his lips slowly against Kei’s. They’re not particularly chaste about kissing this time around, and by the time they pull away, their mouths are both slick and pink. Kei watches fondly as Tadashi wipes away the trail of saliva from the corner of his mouth and breathes in deep to steady himself.

“We…we’ll do this, get her dressed, and then get dressed,” Tadashi says slowly.

Kei stands and offers his hand to Tadashi. “We will.” He pulls Tadashi to his feet, and presses a kiss to the brunet’s forehead. He slowly rolls up the cuff of Tadashi’s sweater where it’s fallen down.

Tadashi gives him a bemused smile and reaches up to push Kei’s glasses up his nose. “This… won’t be fun.”

“No,” Kei says. “But we should get it done.”

“Yes…” Tadashi looks over his shoulder to Himawari’s crib. He doesn’t want to wake her up. He doesn’t want to be the one who has to do this—he knows that this feeling was what Kei meant when he’d said that his family wanted to avoid messy things, but… He feels so bad. It breaks his heart.  He turns and steps over to her, gently scooping her up from the blankets.

She’s warm and limp with sleep in his arms, and she rouses slowly, butting her head against Tadashi’s collar like a cat. She pushes her face up against his shirt and curls her fingers against him, drool starting to seep through where her mouth is mashed against Tadashi’s shoulder. Tadashi settles onto the edge of the bed, rubbing her back slowly as she shifts and yawns and whines at being woken up; he tries to ignore her sleepily mumbled ‘kaa-san’.

Kei lowers himself beside Tadashi, nudging the brunet’s knee with his own. He opens the internet browser on his phone back up and sets the phone where Tadashi can  see the article they’d decided to follow.

Tadashi chews on his lip and rocks Himawari in his arms. He waits until she stops fussing about being woken up to set her on his lap. “Ri-chan,” he says quietly, once her eyes focus on him. “Soon, you’re going to put on a dress and we’re going to go on a trip.”

“Go?” Himawari asks, pouting.

“Yes, we’re going to go. Everybody’s going. You’re going to see a lot of people you know. Family.”

“Baasan,” Himawari queries. Her eyes brighten and she leans forward, “Kaa-san? Tou-san?”

Tadashi falters. Kei puts his hand on Tadashi’s thigh and looks at him. Tadashi shakes his head helplessly.

“No,” Kei says for Tadashi, voice quiet. “They won’t be there.”

Tadashi watches as tears pool up in Himawari’s eyes; he swallows past the lump in his throat. “Himawari-chan, your momma and dad are dead. That means…” he falters. “That means…” He shakes his head again.

Kei leans over a bit and picks Himawari up from Tadashi’s lap. “Himawari,” he says quietly, setting her down in his own lap, “Have you ever fallen down? Got hurt?”

“Ouches,” Himawari mumbles, sniffling.

“Sometimes, bigger ouches happen. Really big ones. They’re called accidents—your mom and dad were in one. And they died. Their bodies don’t work anymore,” Kei continues, face twisting with awkward discomfort. “Everyone is very sad right now, because they won’t come back. Where we’re going is a place to say good-bye to them.”

There’s a long moment of silence as the words sink in. Tadashi feels tears start to seep down his face as Himawari finally starts to cry.

“Want,” she cries.

Kei tucks her against his chest even as she struggles and starts to yell instead of crying. “I know, baby,” he mumbles softly. “I know.”

There’s something inside of Tadashi that aches: it’s a want, something indescribable and growing that he’s started to think of as a newborn flower putting out its first tendrils of leaves. The roots of it push down through his chest, deep into his fingers and bones and toes. It could be anything. Could have been anything—so many plants look similar deep deep underground and barely above the surface.

The seed was the little girl reaching out and laughing as she grabbed his hair. The soil was waking up to find her in Kei’s arms. The water is how much it hurts, how much they’ve already cried. How she laughs and cries and how Kei cradles her very carefully, very awkwardly is sunshine; Kei is always a light for him, soft and flickering and nostalgic just like the fireflies he carries in his name. But it’s growing brighter; it’s growing into something less unsure and more stable.

The very growth of it pushes at him so much it hurts. The possibilities hurt. The could- and couldn’t-be’s seed in his mind and grow and he shifts through the options for the yet unnamed want in him.

It reminds him of how he felt before he couldn’t stand it any longer and confessed to Kei. Or how he felt when he and Kei sat in his bedroom during their third year, side-by-side with matching acceptance letters, making the decision to tell their parents about their plans.

They struggle to get Himawari calmed down enough to clean her up and put her into the little black dress that had been bought for her—calmed down being something relative. She kicks and flails and cries the entire time. They give up on putting on the little socks that went with the dress, and her hair ends up messy and lopsided because she wouldn’t sit still, and both of them have been bitten a total of at least twice each.

Tadashi rocks her in his arms while Kei changes into his suit. “I thought I told you to wear the navy one,” he murmurs  as he watches his lover tuck in his shirt.

“Ah, you did,” Kei answers. “But black is traditional, and… well, I didn’t want to take chances with your family.”

“I know, that’s why I said it,” Tadashi mumbles.

Kei snorts and starts buttoning up his shirt. “I thought you said it was because the navy one looked better.”

“That too,” the brunet replies blithely. “Fits better too, especially the slacks: Your butt looks great in that suit. So, you’d look nice and piss my family off. Win-win.”  

“And you say _I’m_ the petty one,” Kei says with a single chuckle. He leans forward and picks his tie up from the bed. He loops it around his neck, tipping his head back as he starts to do the knot up. “In the end, we’ve ruffled enough feathers without it, so.”

“I know,” Tadashi sulks, adjusting Himawari in his arms. She pushes at his hands and continues her weepy chant for her mother. He holds onto her a little firmer, cradling her head against his shoulder.

Kei shakes his head and folds his collar over his tie. “Your turn,” he says after sliding on his suit jacket, holding his arms out for Himawari.

Tadashi stands and passes her carefully to Kei. Kei winces as she starts screaming in his ear, unhappy with leaving Tadashi’s company.

Tadashi wrings his hands helplessly as Kei readjusts Himawari in his arms and settles at the edge of the bed, bouncing the wailing girl gently on his knee in an attempt to distract her (and keep her away from his eardrums). He grits his teeth and changes into his suit. By the time he’s dressed and ready, Kei’s managed to get her screaming down to a whimper, and he’s pressed her stuffed hedgehog into her hands.

“Ready?” Tadashi asks, leaning forward to scoop Himawari’s diaper bag from the floor.

“Ready,” Kei answers.

Neither of them are truly ready, not when being ready means facing a house full of relatives that dislike them with a distraught toddler no one wants to help with. When it means going to a funeral they can’t participate in. Or a memorial service with people they don’t know, whom they have to keep Himawari away from. When it means dealing with Himawari, who doesn’t stop being fussy and combative the rest of the week.

Tadashi doesn’t think they’re really ready. But then, he thinks as he watches his father kneel in front of the incense urn from the back row, sight blurred from smoke that stings his eyes and nose, no one is ever really ready for death.

Not when it’s sudden and messy. Not ever.

He stands outside of the funeral home and crematorium and watches the smoke rise into the air. Somewhere in the building, without them, his family is separating the bones and the ashes of Kana and her husband, Hideki. Maybe their hands are shaking. Maybe their fingers are steady and sure as they withstand the company of the family that had been estranged from Kana’s husband.

One by one, they’ll do it. He thinks of the remains of pets he’s had to handle. He thinks of the ashes they give to their owners. A surprising number of bones will survive the fire, he thinks. People are resilient, even after they die. No one is ever ready to face this fact.

Things get left behind, even the pieces and parts of people that are loved most. He looks at Kei, who cradles Himawari in his arms—his family is in the crematorium, picking up the bones that were left behind. And they are here, with the child that was left.

He doesn’t think his family is ready to pick up this piece that was left of Kana and Hideki. Not now that, in the wake of being told her parents were gone, Himawari has become overly attached to Kei. His family, has tried to dampen her dependence on Kei, but there’s only so much screaming they can handle before they give her back.

Tadashi can’t even take her from him unless she specifically decides to go to him. Kei has handled her fussy insistence on his care with a surprising amount of grace.  Kei’s patient fondness is something rare and given sparingly, but he showers her with care and affection. When she cries about being put down, he picks her back up. He wakes when she does and goes to get her from where Sayaka has moved Himawari back into her bedroom to calm Himawari down and put her back to sleep.

Kei says that it’s just what the articles online say to do, to give her consistent care, but Tadashi knows that he’s never one to do something just because he was told he should.

He’s not sure they’re ready for the idea that’s blooming in his mind. For the little petals of words that flutter like rain in his heart. But when he sees Kei, solemn faced but tender, with Himawari settled in her carrier across Kei’s chest, Tadashi thinks that _he’s_ ready, at least, to give words to the notion.

Their week is running out, fast. It’s Friday and their train back to Tokyo leaves late Saturday night. Despite Himawari’s insistence on being in Kei’s company, they’ve already started to try to wean her away from him. Tadashi knows he has to decide what he’s going to do. He thinks that maybe, he’s already decided.

“Let’s go back,” Tadashi says softly. “There’s nothing for us to do here anymore.”

Kei looks up at the sky briefly, watching the smoke rise into the air and drift in the wind. The sunlight gleams off of his lenses as he tilts his head and adjusts Himawari slightly. “Yeah.”

He wavers between ready and not ready the entire drive home. He’s ready, he thinks, as he watches Kei buckle Himawari into her car seat. He’s not ready when they’re alone in his room, with Kei slowly sliding his button-down off of his shoulders as they kiss softly; he knows the magnitude of change his decision will bring. He’s not sure if he’s ready for that change.  

Ready. Not ready. No one is ever truly ready, not assuredly so.

He’s quiet as they start packing, thoughtful. Kei is too; they’re often quiet together, and he likes that. He used to fill the silences between them with chatter—he still does, sometimes. But it’s nice, to be able to be quiet. He watches Kei fold up clothes, one by one. His own pile is untouched. He’s hesitant to start his own packing.

Tadashi stands and stretches, “I’m going to go downstairs and grab the stuff we put in to wash, okay?”

“Mm, grab our loafers too, we’ll forget them otherwise,” Kei says, rolling up a towel.

“Alright,” Tadashi agrees. “Anything else while I’m down there?”

“Not really.” Kei shoos him off dismissively.

Tadashi snickers and blows a kiss over his shoulder, catching Kei’s eye roll before he turns back around. He heads to the stairs, pausing when he hears voices drifting up from the living room downstairs. He rests his hand on the banister, listening intently.

The conversation sounds strained. He creeps carefully down a few steps, kneeling so he could hear better without being seen around the landing.

“We certainly can’t,” Hirako sniffs. “Private school is expensive and so is college.”

“We’re in the same boat as you, Hirako-nee,” Tadashi hears his uncle sigh.

The uncle's wife chimes in “Keiji and I definitely cannot. We won’t. Three children is plenty.”

Tadashi frowns, uncertain as to what he’s hearing. He has a faint clue, but surely... 

“Their wishes are fairly explicit,” Tadashi hears his father sigh. “That if anything were to happen to them, that Kana-chan and Hideki wanted Himawari to live with Miwa.”

Tadashi feels his heart skip a beat. He creeps a bit further down the stairs, pressed close to the wall. He hasn’t had to sneak around in his old home since he was still in high school, having snuck Kei into the house after his parents had banned them from spending time together. It’s weird. It makes the house seem foreign to him, even though he knows that if he puts his foot on the second to last stair, it’ll creak, and how far from the landing he needed to stay to keep them from seeing him.

There’s a series of unhappy murmuring that Tadashi can’t make out, but he already knows the gist of. Miwa doesn’t want her granddaughter. He can’t pretend he even remotely understands. He chews on his lip and closes his eyes, trying to focus on hearing.

“I know, you’ve already protested,” Hiro replies. “And their documents state that if something were to happen where Miwa can’t take care of her, they wished for her to live with family.”

“What about Hideki-san’s family?” Hirako inquires. “They were fairly pleasant at the services, and a few of them had young children—they would be better suited for this.”

“No,” Miwa says suddenly, very loudly. “No, Kana told me about his family. She won't go there.”

Tadashi frowns. He doesn’t quite like the tone that his aunt has, speaking about Hideki’s family—she sounds protective, almost, of Himawari, even though she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to have anything to do with her.

“Well then,” Keiji’s wife says primly. “Sayaka-chan and Hiro are the only ones left.”

“Haruka-san,” Sayaka murmurs. “I’m not sure we’re cut out for a child that young.”

“All her things are still here. No one else can take care of her. Besides, as the eldest son, don’t you think it’s Hiro’s job to take up the slack in these matters?”

Tadashi’s mouth goes dry and his stomach flips. None of them want to take care of Himawari. None of them want her. Not even his parents. 

He backs up the stairs quietly, mouth set.

It doesn’t much matter if he’s ready or not—he can’t let this happen. He doesn’t think any of them deserve another chance; he’s given them plenty. More of Kei has seeped into him than anyone could ever expect, because he’s done with giving them anything. If they want something from him now, they'll have to take it, and he'll take what he wants in return. 

He doesn’t think he can sleep at night if he leaves and blindly hopes whoever eventually volunteers—no. There will be no volunteers. He knows, without a doubt, that it will be his parents who end up taking care of her, and not because they actually want to. It'll be the right thing for them to do, the most respectable thing. He doesn’t think he can live with himself if he lets them raise another child like they raised him.

He’s tired of hurting over the things they’ve done that made him feel small, he’s tired of feeling guilty and breaking his back to please them. They’ll never be happy, and he knows it, and he won’t, _won’t won’t won’t_ , let someone else go through that.

It’s as close to ready as he’ll ever get. And that’s what counts.

Tadashi strides into his bedroom, and closes the door behind him softly. “Kei,” he says.

Kei looks over his shoulder from where he’s packing. He frowns. “Was the laundry not finished?” he asks.

“Everyone’s downstairs.”

“Oh, well, we’ll get those things later,” Kei says dismissively, going back to packing. He starts folding up the pile of Tadashi’s things.

Tadashi watches him. It hurts, sort of, to make this decision. But he thinks Kei’s going to understand, and they’ll figure it out as they go. He’s not nervous, not really, but his throat is tight and his heart speeds like it did the day he filled out the lease on their apartment in Tokyo. He swallows past the tightness and the fluttering in his chest and clears his throat.

“Kei, I think I’m going to stay here,” Tadashi says softly. He steps towards Kei, putting his hand over Kei’s. “I… I _am_ going to stay here.”

Kei looks up from their bags. Tadashi’s face is stern and determined; Kei knows that look. He knows it just as well as he knows the way that Tadashi looks in any situation. It’s the look that won him playing time their first year, even after he’d messed up so many times. It’s the look he wears when he deals with people who have only rude and nasty things to say about him. It’s the look he gets when Kei says things are impossible or too hard.

“Excuse me?” He says flatly. He looks at Tadashi as he repeats what he’d said before. He sees Tadashi’s mouth move, but he doesn’t really hear it; he knew what Tadashi said the first time. He hadn’t asked to hear it again, but rather for clarification, because he couldn’t believe it.

“You can’t,” Kei says succinctly. He returns to packing their things. 

“I can,” Tadashi shoots back, gently removing one of his shirts from Kei’s hands. He lays it down on the bed.

“Absolutely not,” Kei says, making a decisive gesture with his hand. “You _won’t_.”

“This isn’t your decision to make,” Tadashi murmurs petulantly, eyes darting away from Kei’s face.

Kei feels his face grow hot with anger. “Not my decision to make? Not my decision? No, it’s not, you’re right, but I think I deserve a say in it; at the very least, I think I deserve to be listened to.”

“I’m listening to you, Kei, I hear you. You don’t want me to, and that’s,” Tadashi says, trailing off. “Well, that’s _you_. But I… _I_ want to stay for a while longer.”

“And I don’t want you to!” Kei says hotly. He clenches his fingers together, hands shaking. “I barely even want you to stay in this house as long as we have!”

“Kei, they’re my family and I… I think you should just… we should just… they’re not _bad_ people,” Tadashi protests softly. “They’re just… _well_.”

“Not bad people?” Kei echoes, incredulous. “You need to grow a spine and stop protecting them because you feel guilty for hating them! Your own parents won’t even protect you, stand up for you! _I’m_ the only person who does that and that’s why you should listen to me!”

“ _Kei_ —”

“No! They nearly killed you, Tadashi—” Kei rages, breaking out into full-body tremors, muscles tight. “You nearly killed yourself bending over backwards to make yourself be a good person for them, even though they told you they didn’t even have a son!”

“Kei, that’s not what happened and you know it! I just overworked myself and collapsed—”

“Because you hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten in a week because you were so caught up in exams because you wanted to send home a perfect first semester’s worth of grades home to prove to them that you weren’t stupid, that you could do it! And what if that had happened where someone hadn’t been able to help you? Or while you were crossing the street or at the edge of a train platform? What _then_?” He points at Tadashi, throwing out his other hand, “You kept yourself awake, crying—don’t you remember how many nights you sat and sobbed because your mother wouldn’t answer the phone on your birthday or because you found something at the store you wanted to get them? When we came to visit _my_ parents and yours closed the door in your damn face? Because _I_ remember, I remember very well! I remember every night, every time I had to pick you up and take you to the bathroom because you’d cried until you were sick. Watching you lose weight and start forgetting things and stop taking your medicine because you thought it didn’t matter? Don’t you remember all that? Because I do, I remember it very well! Don’t you know that it hurt me, too? They were my second family! I got hurt too, but it hurt more to watch you make yourself sick over it and I will not, do you hear me, _will not,_  let you put yourself into a situation where you spend more time with them than you have to!”

“Kei, I—this is different, it’s different now,” Tadashi murmurs, reaching out to grab Kei’s hand.

Kei wrenches away, absolutely livid. “It’s not! It’s not any different now, Tadashi! They’re still the same despicable, cowardly, intolerant people they were then! They don’t even want to try, and I will be damned if I watch you work yourself thin for them again!”

“Then don’t watch!” Tadashi shouts back suddenly, face red. He stomps his foot and points towards the door. “Leave! Don’t come back! I am capable of doing things on my own, Kei, so you can go leave if you don’t like the decisions I make myself! You won’t have to watch, then!”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to leave!” Kei yells over Tadashi; “We decided we’d work through shit like that, so don’t tell me I can just _go_ when you know I won’t!”

“Because you’re so stubborn!” Tadashi shouts back, “I don’t want that, I don’t want someone like that! I don’t want someone who tries to guilt me into things when it’s not going their way, you selfish, stubborn— you—you jerk!”

“Well that’s who you get!” Kei steps into Tadashi’s space, arching his back and pushing his shoulders forward.

Tadashi leans up onto his toes, Kei’s ragged breath hot on his face. He jabs his finger roughly at Kei’s chest with each word. “Then don’t act like you control me, because you don’t! I don’t need you if you’re going to act like that! I don’t want you if you’re like that! If that’s how it’s going to be, we can be through!”

“Don’t you _dare_ go there!” They’re both screaming now, fists balled up in each other’s shirts, nose to nose as they shout.

 “Then _listen_ to why I want to stay, Kei!”

“I know damn well why you want to!” Kei yells. They haven’t fought like this in _years_. But this house has scraped him raw with worry. “You want to stay and take care of that little girl because, I don’t know, you want to show them that you _can_ —”

“I want to because no one else wants her, Kei! I can’t let them do what they did to me to her!”

Kei stops. Lets go of Tadashi’s shirt; steps back. Tadashi takes a deep breath, voice rough from the force of his shout. “I can’t let them, Kei, I can’t. Look at how they’ve already treated her, and she’s a _baby_ ,” he whispers. “She can’t protect herself, someone has to, someone _has_ to.” He uncurls his fists from Kei’s shirt and grasps his shoulders, shaking the blond gently.  “None of them want her. They’re downstairs now arguing about it, and no one wants her. Don’t you _get it_?”

“What do you want to do about it? Stick around for forever?”

“Yes!” Tadashi shouts, shaking Kei a little harder. “ _Yes_! Kei, we— _I’ve_ —got to do this, I want her.”

“What?”

Tadashi curls his fingers tighter around Kei’s shoulders, “Kei, I want to adopt her. I want _us_ to adopt her.”

Kei looks down at Tadashi; the other man is staring up at him, eyes bright and hopeful. Tadashi’s panting softly and his face is still flushed from yelling. Maybe he’s supposed to feel something in the wake of such a hopeful, pleading revelation, but he doesn’t. Tadashi’s looking at him the same way he did the first time he ever asked for a kiss, the way he did when he asked if they could go to university together and live together; he’s waiting to hear an answer.

Kei reaches up and grabs Tadashi’s hands and gently removes them from his shoulders, tearing his eyes away from how his lover brightens at the action. Kei can tell that Tadashi thinks he’s going to say yes.

“Absolutely not,” Kei says softly. “No.”


	9. Take Every Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha. Finally. Thanks to MT for putting up with the first rough-rough draft and the final rough! 
> 
> Also: here have a [playlist](http://8tracks.com/bluecoloreddreams/sunflowers-and-fireflies#) you guys. It's super cheesy, but it's what I listen to to write this and like, where all the chapter titles come from.

“Why?” Tadashi demands, looking stricken. His voice cracks, “Why not?!”

“I told you before,” Kei says, “A child isn’t a puppy you can take home once the week is over.”

“I _know_ that! So why?!”

“Because, Tadashi,” Kei insists wearily. He runs a hand through his hair. He knows where Tadashi’s coming from—but it doesn’t mean that he thinks that it’s the best thing to do. “Do you really think we’re capable of raising a child?”

“Yes!” Tadashi shouts, “I _do_!”

“Well I don’t!” Kei yells back. “We barely take care of ourselves!”

“We do just fine!”

Kei laughs derisively, “Yeah, right!” he seethes. “Yeah, okay! Doing _just_ fine, okay. I wasn’t aware that ‘just fine’ looked like living from pay period to pay period or panic attacks. Or needing help getting out of bed and just zoning out, going where I can’t get you!”

Tadashi flushes in anger and reels back like Kei has physically hit him. “Don’t you bring that into this,” he cries. “Don’t—you know—you know that I— I have it under control now.”

“For now,” Kei answers, dropping his voice. “Tadashi you know that… look, you being okay is such a new thing. I don’t think we have the ability to handle the sort of stress raising a child—and being in constant contact with your family—will put on us. On you.”

“I never thought that _you_ would use that against me,” Tadashi says shakily, turning pale.

“I’m not using it—” Kei groans and rubs his hands against his face. “For fuck’s sake, Tadashi, stop being a moron—” he snaps, but immediately regrets it when he hears a strangled noise bubble up from his lover’s throat. He gives a long sigh, pressing his fingers against his cheeks and rubbing out the tension. “Tadashi, please actually think about what sort of position it would put us in,” he tries; “Your family—”

“I obviously don’t care what my family thinks! I have thought about it, Kei, and I want you to stop being selfish for once—”

“Me?! _Selfish_?! What the hell sort of thing are you even thinking?”

They’re shouting again, just like that, voices raised to the point it hurts to talk; Kei can’t even keep track of the hurtful things they keep shouting back and forth at each other. He’s actually thankful when Sayaka pushes their door open, worry etched onto her face.

“Boys? What’s going on?” she asks quietly. “You two are awfully loud—it’s disturbing the rest of the family.”

Tadashi rubs the heel of his hand against his cheek, quickly wiping his face; “It’s nothing—sorry,” he murmurs, voice shaking as he smiles. “We’ll keep it down.”

Something in Kei snaps. He can’t take it anymore. He snatches his wallet up from the bed and pushes past Sayaka, storming down the stairs. It’s like he can’t breathe; he can’t do it anymore. He can’t stand these people and he can’t stand what they do to Tadashi—what they do to _him_ just by hurting the other man. But he can’t continue to protect Tadashi from it for forever, especially when Tadashi insists upon throwing himself out there in front of them.

Doesn’t Tadashi get that he’s hurt too? That he’s tired of it hurting?

They’ve only just got their quiet little life under them; it’s fragile and small, but it’s theirs. There are still things they’re working on, careers and bills and the stupid stuck handle to their shower that will probably never be fixed. Chores. Cooking. All sorts of little things that ebb and flow around their feet. They have to work hard to keep it from snatching the ground from under them, like it did when they first started living in Tokyo.

He still has problems expressing himself, putting his worries out there without sounding blunt or callous. The accusations he tossed at Tadashi still linger on his tongue, acrid and burning. He doesn’t think it’s out of bounds to think the way he does, that they’re too young, too green, too unstable to raise a child.

He does, however, realize that the way he talked about Tadashi’s anxiety was. He regrets getting as angry as he did, knows that lashing out blindly isn’t what they need. It definitely isn’t what a child needs.

Kei sighs and strides into the small children’s park that’s situated nicely between his and Tadashi’s homes. Coming here is peaceful; it makes him think of sneaking out and holding hands in the orange lights of streetlamps and blue-shadowed snow at midnight, of Tadashi at age eleven crying for him about Akiteru, being too tall for swing sets and using them anyway, falling off with a lurching stomach, and the bottomless fear when they met up one night in high school to Tadashi’s bruised cheek and red-rimmed eyes.

It’s been a while since he’s been to the little park; in Tokyo, it feels like there’s nowhere to sit and be quiet, except for their little apartment. Here in their hometown, everywhere is quiet—there are endless places to hide and think, but this is the place they always choose.

He doesn’t much care to analyze the reasons why—it’s just special to them. He runs his fingers against the old, slightly rusted, chains of the swing set and lowers himself into the old plastic seat. It creaks beneath his weight and his knees are cramped, too tall to sit so close to the ground. He pushes his feet into the soft mulch and sand, rocking the swing back and forth with the balls of his feet, hunching forward to rub at his face.

He can’t believe he left Tadashi there alone, just because he couldn’t handle fighting anymore. He laces his fingers together against his forehead and presses the bridge of his nose with his thumbs; god, he thought he was better than that now. He wanted to be better than that.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, rubbing at his brow and contemplating the things he could have said. When he finally looks up, the sunset filters through the branches of trees, orange and the filtered green of new leaves.

Tadashi presses his fingers gently against his shoulder, behind him just like he always is. “It doesn’t surprise me at all that this is where I find you,” he murmurs. His tone isn’t angry or sad or weary; it’s warm and amused and the pressure of his fingers increases briefly before it’s gone.

Kei looks over with a bemused grin, watching as Tadashi settles into the swing next to him. “It’s the only place to go, really,” he replies.

Tadashi folds himself into a similarly cramped position on the swing.“Is that why I could never find you in Tokyo?” he asks, pushing off, body leaning forward to get a good motion going.

“You looked?”

“Of course I did,” Tadashi answers, feet proving too close to the ground to really swing. He lets himself move to a halt, heels dragging twin lines into the ground. “I mean, the first few times I thought you wouldn’t come back, you know?”

“I did. Come back, that is.”

“You did,” Tadashi answers. He looks over at Kei, all awkward elbows and knees and red-nosed. He reaches up and hooks his ring and pinky fingers around Kei’s. “And I will too, you know?”

Kei searches Tadashi’s face for a long time, mouth set into a grimace. He looks away, back to the sunset. It’s funny, he thinks, that this is where they started and now they’re talking about an end of sorts. “I’m sorry, you know,” he says after a moment. “Talking about it like that. Your anxiety.”

“I know,” Tadashi replies. “It hurt, but, I know you didn't really mean it like it sounded. It's okay to worry about it, I do too.”

“I keep thinking about that time, you know,” Kei says after a long moment. “When we decided we were going to leave and never come back.”

“We didn’t do too well with that,” Tadashi laughs. “I love my family too much for that.”

“I wish you didn’t, Tadashi,” Kei breathes. It breaks his heart to hear it, to say it. “I wish you didn’t love them at all.”

“I know,” Tadashi says again. “Oh, Kei, I know.”

His name is a sigh on his lover’s lips and it makes his chest ache. “We’ve been together so long,” Kei says quietly. 

“We have,” Tadashi agrees. Laughter and love dance in his voice; “Fifteen years is a long time to be together.”

“I remember what it was like before I met you,” Kei says, and the ache is in his throat now. It burns his eyes, his mouth, his fingers. “I don’t—”

Tadashi lets their fingers uncurl and drop; he stands and steps in front of Kei. He leans forward and kisses his lover once, twice, then again and again, until Kei rises to meet him on his feet. “We should talk about this,” Tadashi whispers, cupping Kei’s face. “Your parents’ house is better.”

Kei squeezes Tadashi’s hips softly and kisses him again, knowing that Tadashi is both serious and not-so-serious about his meanings. They pull away and link hands again; they walk in silence to Kei’s parent’s. They knock out of courtesy, but they both know the house is empty—Kei’s parents have never once faltered in their Friday-night date ritual, save in cases of extreme emergency. Tadashi always found it endearing; when Kei was younger, he found it cringe-worthy. Now, he gets it. He understands why two people, despite living together, could want and need something like a date-night.

“What did Sayaka say about me leaving?” Kei asks, leaning down to grab the spare key from under the bush next to the front door of his childhood home.

“Mm, mom was more worried about how we’d disturbed the family,” Tadashi comments, rocking back onto his heels. “And then she asked me if I would mind staying another week or so to help take care of Himawari.”

Kei pauses, feeling the back of his neck grow hot. “And what… did you say?” he asks quietly, straightening slowly.

Tadashi looks at Kei strangely, eyebrows rising. “I said I would talk to you about it,” he answers deliberately, as if speaking to a toddler—actually, Kei thinks, it’s the same tone he takes with Himawari to explain something she doesn't want to do. “She tried to press me into saying yes then. I told her I needed to go after you.”

“I doubt she liked that,” Kei murmurs. He fits the key into the lock and turns it. He sets the key back under the bush, covering it up with the little rock that he and Akiteru had painted their names onto when Kei was three. Tadashi slides inside before him. 

“You know mom,” Tadashi says, wiggling his foot out of his shoe. “If she seriously disliked it, she didn’t really show it. Not like she used to. She made her ‘teacher is displeased’ face, though.”

Kei closes the door and relocks it, watching Tadashi kick off one shoe and move onto the other. Tadashi turns and looks at Kei from over his shoulder and smiles softly; “It’s not like it matters in the long run, you know?”

“But it does. It matters to you,” Kei mumbles.

Tadashi shrugs and holds his hands out for Kei. “C’mon, I already let your parents know before I found you that we’d be here tonight. We can go back to my parents tomorrow before the train leaves,” he says. “We need 'us' time.” He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and smirks as Kei rolls his eyes at him. 

“Is it really the best thing to have sex after a fight?” Kei asks dryly, stepping on his heels to pop his shoes off.

Tadashi laughs and squeezes Kei’s hands tightly. “Yes. Haven’t you ever heard of makeup sex?”

“I thought that was for after breaking up,” Kei chuckles, letting Tadashi pull him through the hallway.

“Is it?”

“It is,” Kei laughs. Tadashi just smiles at him and it makes Kei’s stomach and chest grow warm. “I love you,” he says suddenly.

“And that’s why,” Tadashi says, bringing Kei’s hand up to his mouth. He kisses Kei’s knuckles softly. “That's why, right there. Because I love you, too.”

It’s not until Kei’s old bedroom door is closed and locked that the next sudden thing bubbles up from that warmth in his stomach. “I didn’t want to fight,” Kei whispers against Tadashi’s mouth, forehead tapping his lover’s softly. Tadashi just nods and pulls Kei forward until they both fall forward onto the mattress, kissing languidly, hands wandering slowly.

It’s easy, having sex with Tadashi. While it’s easy and comforting and endlessly pleasurable, it isn’t as if everything between them is always effortless—it’s just, things like this come more easily to Kei than talking. He’s always found it more natural to show his affections through things like this, through acting on his feelings.

Tadashi is warm and responsive to his hands and mouth, and he uses his own just as much. Tadashi draws him close, not letting go even once they’re both spent and the twilight of the sunset filtered through Kei’s blinds has faded away.

Kei wilts against his lover, forehead warm against Tadashi’s; his eyes flutter shut and a small, shuddering breath leaves him. “You can’t,” he says weakly, “I don’t want you to.”

It’s easier now to say it, to talk about it. All the anger has washed out of him and left behind a pit of worry and preemptive loneliness. He knows he sounds terribly selfish and pathetic, but he doesn’t want to leave Tadashi behind when it’s time to go back home to their tiny Tokyo apartment. He doesn’t want to leave Tadashi where he can’t be around to protect him, to hold him, hear him laugh and feel the scratchy morning stubble on Tadashi’s jaw as he nuzzles up against his neck.

“Kei,” Tadashi murmurs. He lets go of Kei’s hands and uses his own to smooth against Kei’s neck, over his shoulders, and down his back.

He’s only ever heard Kei’s voice sound so small and lost twice before: once, after a volleyball match, whispering ‘ _Niichan lied_ _to me_ ’ and again when they were twenty and Tadashi’s bags were scattered on the floor, half packed, _‘I’m sorry; let’s work it out for real this time’_. “Don’t,” Kei whispers, sounding like he was a mix of twenty and ten years old again, “Don’t stay. I’m scared you’ll… you won’t be able to come back.”

 _I don't want to be alone._ The words may not have left his mouth, but the meaning is clear to both of them. 

Tadashi leans back into the pillows, craning his neck to look at Kei carefully. He cards his fingers through damp curls, pushing Kei’s hair off of his temples. “Kei, even if I stay here, I’m still with you,” he says softly. He takes Kei’s left hand in his own and brings it to his lips, kissing the thin silver band. “That’s what we decided.”

“Tadashi, we can’t… I don’t think we can raise a child,” Kei murmurs. “I don’t want you to… to be upset if… Well,” he lets his voice trail off.

Tadashi wriggles a bit, pushing at Kei’s hips until Kei pulls from him. He reaches over and pulls handfuls of tissues from the box by Kei’s bed and wipes up Kei and himself, depositing the mess and the used rubber before speaking. He rolls back over, watching Kei sit up. “I don’t think it will be easy,” he concedes. “But… I think we can. I think together, we can do it.”

Tadashi pauses and smiles easily. “Because I think that Tsukki could be a wonderful daddy,” he says earnestly.

Kei feels himself flush as his stomach flutters with nervousness. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to dislodge the nameless sentiment that starts creeping up the back of his neck. “Tadashi, that’s not the point,” he mutters. “Custody laws aren’t that simple.”  

“It’s a good thing you’re a lawyer,” Tadashi quips with a smirk, rolling onto his stomach. He crosses his ankles and kicks them up as he wiggles close enough to rest his cheek on Kei’s thigh.

Kei runs his hand through Tadashi’s shaggy hair. “Tadashi… you know… biological fathers petitioning for their children… don’t often get them,” he says quietly. “Think about how hard that’s going to make it.”

“I know,” Tadashi murmurs. He rolls again and lets his head rest in Kei’s lap, looking up at the blond. “I know.”

“If your family even lets you,” Kei says. He gently shifts Tadashi out of his lap, laughing as the other man pouts and huffs. “Oh stop it,” he chuckles, wiggling down to lay next to Tadashi.

He scoops his lover up into his arms, wrapping one leg around Tadashi’s. Tadashi promptly untangles himself and slings the same leg over Kei’s hip, fitting them close. “I don’t think they’ll _let_ me. I think I’ll have to fight tooth and nail for it,” he informs Kei, like he was stating the weather. “I’ve… I’ve already thought about that.”

“I see,” Kei murmurs. He starts rubbing circles against Tadashi’s back.

“Kei,” Tadashi whispers, voice tremulous. “You… you will help me, right? Even… though you don’t… want her?”

Kei pauses. “Tadashi, if I didn’t want her at all,” he starts carefully, “What would you do?”

“I would do what I had to do,” Tadashi answers quietly. His shoulders shake and tears smear hot against Kei’s collar where Tadashi’s cheek rests. “I wouldn’t like it, but I would do it. Alone.”

While Kei hadn’t agreed with Tadashi, he knew that Tadashi was always serious about the things he did; he just hadn’t realized, until then, how serious Tadashi was. Kei hugs Tadashi tightly, “I love you,” he says fiercely. “Tadashi, I’ll help you the best I can, know that. I just… I—”

“I know,” Tadashi murmurs. “You’re scared. But… Kei. I am too. And it’s ok. Let me try this, Kei.”

Kei buries his face into Tadashi’s hair, heart aching. “It’s not like I don’t care for her, you know,” he says after a long moment. “Or that I think you’re wrong.” He pauses, voice faltering.

It sounds so selfish to say that this would, more than likely, upset all of their plans. It would be much harder for them to be students and work with a child, even harder with legal costs and a family that most certainly wouldn’t approve of Tadashi stepping forward.

Or how he doesn’t think either of them could handle a kid full-time.

Both of their reasons were sound, though. Kei can’t honestly find any fault in Tadashi’s desire to adopt Himawari—he knows that Tadashi loves easily and freely and would give his all to care for her. He just doesn’t know if Tadashi would save any time or love for himself.

Tadashi hums softly, kissing the hollow of Kei’s throat. “I know,” he whispers. They’ve been together long enough that Kei believes that when Tadashi says it, that he _does_ know.

“You’re staying, aren’t you? No matter what I say?” Kei asks. Against him, Tadashi nods, his hair tickling Kei’s nose.

Kei kisses the crown of Tadashi’s hair and closes his eyes. He doesn’t sleep until Tadashi is snoring against him, and even then, he wakes before Tadashi, sunlight burning at his eyes and feet cold.

He turns and looks at the wall, unwilling to check the time. The train back to Tokyo leaves that evening, and he’ll have to take it by himself.

Tadashi is staying behind, and he’s going back home.


	10. Borders and Horizon Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hope is to alternate between this and the other chaptered fic I have ongoing. We'll SEE.

Kei wakes suddenly. He opens his eyes and any trace of sleepiness or grogginess is gone, replaced by the slow churn of dread in the pit of his stomach. Light filters through the blinds in bright white bars, cloudy with dust motes. The air is cool and he is warm; if it were any other morning, he would roll back over into the comforter and snuggle into Tadashi and sleep until they both rouse on their own. 

Instead, he turns his head slightly and watches the rise and fall of Tadashi’s chest. Traces the shape of his cheek with his eyes and memorizes the way freckles scatter dark over the bridge of his nose and trail under the shadow of his lashes. Reaches out and gently brushes away the lock of hair that’s found its way to Tadashi’s parted mouth, matted and shiny with drool. He listens to the sound of Tadashi’s soft snuffling snores.

He wants to sink his fingers against Tadashi’s muscles and feel the way they shift as he breathes, rub away the knots he knows gather at the base of the man’s neck from slouching. But he doesn’t want to wake him. He watches and he thinks.

It isn’t as if they’re never apart. They’re adults with their own, independent lives; it’s just that their independent lives tangle together in a knotted net of give and give and take and give. But despite this, they are still separate. Knots can loosen or tighten, depending on the direction of the string and the environment against the rope.

He thinks it’s this that bothers him. That makes his throat tight and makes his stomach push against his heart, and then against his mouth.

It’s ultimately this separateness that they have so carefully cultivated, no matter how closely they’ve tied their lives together, that scares Kei.

He feels like Tadashi is both living without him and making a decision about their lives without his say. He doesn’t understand how it can be both at the same time, but it is.

He traces a hand over the shape of Tadashi’s hair, remembering the feel of it rather than combing his fingers through it for fear of rousing his lover before he’s ordered his mind.

He thinks more. He thinks of them carefully deciding how to split the bills and how much to put into their shared account once a month. Of the decision to have two desks, of how hurt Tadashi was when he realized Kei was only studying biology because Tadashi was. Of their separate lives. The nights where they don’t meet up, where they carefully climb into bed against the other as they sleep. The mornings where they don’t wake up at the same time.

He thinks about how long they’ve been together and how, even when they were apart then, they still felt together, save for the semester they spent out of synch in high school.

What makes this different?

He watches Tadashi and carefully constructs his answer.

He watches until Tadashi stirs from his sleep, grumbling and murmuring quiet noises as he stretches himself like a cat under the blankets. He opens his eyes slowly, hazy and unfocused for a brief moment before they settle on Kei. He smiles, “Mm-morning,” he murmurs, words blurring into a yawn. He reaches out, and Kei obediently tucks himself into Tadashi’s arms.

Tadashi tugs him against himself, wrapping his legs around Kei’s and curling his fingers into blond hair so he can press Kei’s face to his neck. He nuzzles into Kei’s hair and rubs his fingers up and down Kei’s spine. “Kei,” he whispers.

Kei kisses Tadashi’s neck over and over until Tadashi starts squirming and laughing and there’s a mark that Tadashi won’t be able to hide. Both of them know it’s there, but neither of them mention it. They have terrible morning breath, too, but it falls aside like it always does.

Tadashi’s hands are warm on Kei’s spine, and his fingers trace the soft, warm, raised lines of skin down his lover’s back. “Remind me to make sure none of those are too bad,” he murmurs to the crown of blond curls against his mouth.

Kei nods silently. His hands rub at Tadashi’s ribs, over and over again, until Tadashi can barely even feel it. It’s a desperate action, like rubbing cold, frostbitten fingers in the dark.

“Kei,” he says again, a bit firmer.

Kei shifts so he can look up at Tadashi.

Tadashi watches pale lashes flutter over amber irises that dart to and from Tadashi’s face.

“You didn’t ask me,” Kei blurts suddenly. His face burns in shame, high on the arc of his thin cheeks. “You didn’t ask me to stay.”

“You don’t want to,” Tadashi answers. There is no question, nor love lost between them over Kei’s distaste for Tadashi’s home.

“But I _would_ ,” Kei answers, voice soft and urgent.

His stubbornness is painful and insistent and twisted; it makes Tadashi’s heart ache in the same way it did when they were children and Kei was crying because it hurt him to cut Akiteru out of his life, but the betrayal hurt worse. Tadashi knows how to cope with it—the ache and Kei’s stubbornness—better now than he did then, but it still makes him remember ultimately, just how fragile Kei is sometimes. How fragile they both are. How stubborn and human they are.

“Kei,” Tadashi says for a third time. He reaches up and smoothes back Kei’s hair from his forehead; it’s getting long, he thinks. There’s a pang in his chest when the brief near-image thought of trimming them in their apartment flits through his mind before he realizes it will have to wait. “Kei, I’m not going to ask you.”

“Why?”

The question is a sigh with closed eyes and parted lips and Tadashi can almost taste the near tears, near panic, of the words. “I can’t,” he clarifies. “You have to go back to Tokyo. Back to class, work. Your cram classes. I can't, so I won't.”

“I can take another week,” Kei says softly.

“You know you can’t. Didn’t you say this wasn’t like high school, where you could just fake a passing grade?” Tadashi inquires. He drags his fingers through Kei’s hair, watching lock after lock fall back onto Kei’s skin. It’s soft and thick and smooth against his fingers, slightly tangled with sweat and the need for shower. It’s so familiar. He pets through Kei’s hair again, and then again, soothed.

“ _Ugh_ ,” is all of Kei’s reply.

“How close are you to passing this semester’s goal score on the practice tests?”

“…very.”

“How competitive is your program?”

“…very.”

“You see?” Tadashi answers. “Tsukki, Tsukki, I love you. I love you but I want you to do the things you want without worrying about me.”

“I’m going to worry about you,” Kei mutters.

Tadashi laughs and ruffles Kei’s hair until it starts to stand up on its own and Kei has to roll away for self preservation purposes. Tadashi rolls with him until they’re both laughing and Kei’s fingers find the soft, ticklish patches of Tadashi’s skin.

Once their stomach are sore and their lungs burn, Tadashi leans over Kei and kisses him softly. “Fine, worry about me all you want. But it doesn't change that I want you to do this properly.”

“I know,” Kei says, lips brushing Tadashi’s. “…pretend to ask me?”

Tadashi blinks down at Kei slowly, studying his lover’s face. He knows. And he understands. Kei never truly healed after what happened with Akiteru. They grew up and matured and made up, yes. Got stronger. But Kei, stubborn, hard Kei with his soft heart and awkward hands and unsteady sociability always hungered afterwards. He hungered for communication and to be included.

Tadashi understands. There are things he hasn’t healed from either; there are other things he has. There are still bandages on other things. “Tsukki,” he says quietly, pressing their foreheads together. He feels Kei’s lashes against his own. “I…”

What does Kei want to be asked? His mind races.

To stay here, with him? Certainly.

But there’s more. He can feel it in the way Kei’s chest shivers against his hands.

“Tsukki, do you want a child?” he asks softly.

A choked laugh leaves Kei. He turns his face up slightly. Their noses slot side by side so they don’t knock together and hurt—they did that a lot, too much, even, when they were younger. Kei’s glasses would leave his nose with marks and once, they’d gotten stuck in his hair. They’ve practiced a lot. “Whose child?”

“Ours,” Tadashi answers. “One that’s ours to raise. Do you want to adopt a child? Himawari?”

“I don’t know,” Kei answers honestly. “Yes—I think. But… I don’t know. I don’t know _how_.”

The answer warms Tadashi more than he expected. “That’s fine. I don’t either. …Tsukki, can you stay here with me? While I find out if we can?”

Kei swallows. _Yes_ , his entire body shouts, _yes of course_.

But Tadashi is an adult. Tadashi is his own. He can protect himself. He can, if he has to. Kei knows this. “I wish I could,” he sighs. “But, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Tadashi says, voice quavering between a laugh and a sob. There are times when he is so overwhelmingly proud of Kei now, against the Kei that was, that he doesn’t know what to do. It’s one of the surprises he loves the most, discovering how they both have grown.

“… Sometimes, you know, you pick up your partner’s bad habits, Ta-da-shi,” Kei drawls slowly, prodding his lover gently.

Tadashi squirms and laughs and slides off of Kei and sits at the edge of the bed. “I’m hungry,” he announces instead of saying ‘sorry’—just for spite.

Kei huffs, but follows suit. They put their clothes on and tip toe to the shower, where they wash each other’s hair and kiss and take their time with the luxury of each other’s presence that they’d not been able to indulge in at Tadashi’s family home.

They dress again—luckily, there’s a change of clothes in Kei’s old closet for them (“For emergencies only,” Kei’s mother had scolded; it counts as an emergency that morning), and head down for breakfast.

Kei’s parents have enough grace to completely ignore the sudden company of their son and his lover without it feeling stilted. They’re fed and hugged and Tadashi lets them know that he’ll be staying in Miyagi for a while, and it twists in Kei’s heart, but he’s so grateful that his parents offer their house to Tadashi.

He’s grateful that someone can keep an open door for Tadashi to fall into when his home is too much or when he needs peace. His mother is good at providing peace, Kei thinks, remembering the cool hand in his hair and a cup of tea on his desk, her presence beside him, wordless but supporting, even as he and Akiteru struggled.

They leave and return back to Tadashi’s childhood home, where some of the more distant relatives, now that the funeral proceedings were over, had left. They’re not back for all of five minutes before someone points out that they should be ashamed while pointing at Tadashi’s neck, scolds them for disappearing and leaving Himawari without a care taker, and promptly dumps said toddler back into their care.

It isn’t surprising, given the history of the week, but it still makes Kei angry. He tosses a pair of shoes into his suitcase. Himawari giggles from the floor where Tadashi is handing her crayon after crayon only for each new one to get tossed aside.

“Would it _kill_ them to get their heads out of their—”

“ _Kei!_ ” Tadashi scolds loudly, cutting Kei off mid word. “Language. Watch it.”

“Oh, she’s _two,_ Tadashi,” Kei scoffs. “She doesn’t know bad words.”

“Bad,” Himawari chirps. She grabs a discarded crayon and puts it in her mouth.

Tadashi sighs and tugs it free. “No,” he says sternly.

Kei isn’t sure if Tadashi’s talking to him or Himawari, honestly. He’s looking directly at Himawari, but it could also apply to him. He folds a pair of jeans with a bit more intensity than necessary, ending up tangling the legs so bad it could be considered ‘wadding’.

Tadashi moves the more edible looking crayons (she likes the reds and pinks, apparently) out of Himawari’s reach, watching Kei continue to wad and stuff clothes into the suitcase. “Tsukki,” he sighs.

“I know,” Kei grumbles. He lets his sweater fall from his fingers before he lets himself fold clumsily down onto the floor with Tadashi, knees pressing into the other man’s. “I know,” he mutters, reaching out and scrubbing his fingers into both of their hair.

They’re both good kids. Tadashi was nothing but a good kid growing up, and Himawari’s a child. Himawari shrieks at the attention, the sort of sound that’s pure excitement. She grabs onto his wrist with damp fingers.

“Ew, gross, don’t grab onto me after stuffing your fist into your mouth,” he laughs. Himawari laughs and continues to pat at his hand with slimy fingers until Kei reaches out and scoops her up into his lap.

Tadashi laughs and knocks his knee against Kei’s. Kei knocks back, setting Himawari on the knee that touches Tadashi. She giggles as they bounce her, a complete and total change from the grumpy and trantrum-throwing mess she was when they’d arrived that morning. It baffles Kei that no one except them and Tadashi’s parents can handle her—the teenagers, he understands. But Tadashi’s aunts and uncles all had children, and should know better. It’s exhausting.

Both Sayaka and the internet had told them that as they reestablish a routine for Himawari, her temperament would settle back into  the regular whims of a toddler. He hopes that means it’ll be easier to care for her as time goes on. Or, maybe it just means that it’ll be the same as it is now, but they’ll just be a little more confident in their guesses.

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Tadashi? Kei-kun?”

Sayaka. Kei looks at Tadashi, who shrugs. “Come in,” Tadashi calls. He leans back on his hands; Kei touches his fingers to Tadashi’s.

Sayaka slips into the room and studies the state of packing. One suitcase. Kei’s clothes only. Tadashi’s are still folded and set out on the old dresser, where they’ll stay for the next week. She looks at them on the floor and at Himawari on Kei’s knee.

“I wanted… to check up about what we spoke about last night,” she says softly.

Kei notices that she looks uncomfortable, her hands fluttering at her necklace. Tadashi looks very much like her sometimes, Kei thinks, in small ways. “I also wanted to apologize for being pushy,” she adds.

Kei wonders what Tadashi _said_ to her. His fingers tap Tadashi’s knuckles softly in a gesture he hopes conveys his wonder and amusement. The subtle turn of his lips and gleam in his eye shows Kei that Tadashi understood.

“Thank you,” Tadashi answers politely.

Tadashi is strong when it matters most, Kei thinks proudly. He nudges his knee close to Tadashi’s.

Sayaka seems to be at a loss for a moment. “In any case, you have your life in Tokyo so… Family can’t always come first.”

“It can,” Tadashi says coolly. “But as I said last night, Kei is the family that I put first right now.”

Kei feels his heart kick and his stomach flutter and in that moment, he wants to be fifteen again and look Tadashi in the eye and call him cool.

“But,” Tadashi continues, “I did speak with Kei. And, we came to this decision. I’ll stay for a week right now, but… I’d like to become Himawari-chan’s primary guardian. I heard the discussion last night, and it—I can’t believe no one wants her.” His professional tone falters for a moment; Kei rubs Tadashi’s knuckles softly. “When I do so badly.”

“I don’t know if that’s even possible,” Sayaka says, blinking rapidly.

“We can try.”

Sayaka pauses, then shakes her head slowly. “Is that what you boys were fighting over last night?”

“That isn’t any of your business,” Kei snaps.

“If it is, then I definitely cannot allow it,” Sayaka says. “Why would I let a child pass to the hands of someone who doesn’t want them?”

Tadashi opens his mouth to retort, but Kei lays his hand over Tadashi’s in earnest. “That wasn’t what we fought over,” he says sternly.  

It’s not untrue—it’s just not exactly one hundred percent true either. But, Kei won’t allow them to be seen as anything as united in this. It’s one of the first things they’re taught at school, when handling a case that appears in the public eye—do not give the public an inch of doubt in your client.

“I hate to sound like I was eavesdropping but I heard some of your conversation last night,” Sayaka says quietly. “It sounded an awful lot to me that you don’t want—”

“It’s unfortunate that you’ve drawn that conclusion,” Kei cuts over her. “But it happens when you hear only part of a conversation. We did fight,” he agrees. “But it was over Tadashi staying here, where there’s no support system for him. Parents typically utilize babysitters, do they not?”

He doesn’t wait for her. “Yet we’ve borne the brunt of watching after Himawari this week. Don’t you think it’s the most natural thing for us to become attached after sustained contact like this? And besides, every couple argues over things like finances, school, work. It only becomes more difficult when a child is added into the mix,” Kei continues. “But. We’ve already come to an agreement. I want Tadashi to have guardianship of Himawari, and help raise her.”

Sayaka fidgets with the collar of her dress, mouth open in speechlessness. Kei’s fingers tremble with Tadashi’s. “I… I see.”

“I want to be included in any further discussions about the execution of Kana and Hideki’s will,” Tadashi says. “I want at least a chance at this, you have to promise me at least a chance.”

“I… I don’t,” Sayaka says softly. Her shoulders tremble for a moment, “You’ll have to… the rest of the family—Tadashi, honey, they already don’t like you two, I don’t know what to do.”

Kei can feel Tadashi’s muscles relax slowly. He closes his fingers around Tadashi’s.

“That’s fine,” Tadashi says. “I can figure it out myself. Somehow, I always have.”

“I’m sorry,” Sayaka says before sliding out of the room.

Kei and Tadashi sit in silence for a moment.

“Well,” Tadashi says, sliding a few crayons out of Himawari’s reach as Kei holds her back from falling off of his lap in her reach for them. “That went better than I expected it to,” he laughs.

Kei exhales slowly and leans against the mattress. “I hate having to use court voices on your parents,” he grumbles. “But I hate being teacher-voiced more.”

“Sometimes it’s the only way to get through to people,” Tadashi murmurs, scooping Himawari from Kei’s lap. “You know, she means well enough.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it does,” Kei retorts, watching as Himawari sets back into coloring idly, making a muddy scribble in the middle of the spread out papers, circling color after color.

“I don’t think she and dad ever wanted kids,” Tadashi says, rolling onto his stomach and drawing absent swirls to the top corner of the nearest piece of paper. Himawari watches him wide-eyed and tries to copy the movement. Her crayon skids off the paper and marks a sky-blue streak to the floor.

“You never told me that,” Kei says softly.

“I don’t know for certain,” Tadashi laughs. He takes the crayon, spit-soaked and cracked as Himawari gives a loud ‘more!’ and shoves it at him. His swirls become leaves and vines. “Just that mom wasn’t particularly young when they had me, and that she’s always said her classroom children are easier. Ah! When we had the birds and bees talk too, she made a pretty pointed effort to tell me not to rely on whether or not my partner was on birth control,” he says. He picks up a yellow crayon and starts  sweeping ovals together in an uneven circle, the beginnings of a flower.

“Isn’t that being considerate?” Kei asks.

“Possibly. I’ve just always wondered if they didn’t actually want me,” Tadashi says softly. “I don’t want them to end up with another child they don’t particularly love. Not that I doubt that they love me, or they did their best, I just. Wonder if their best would have been better.”

Kei nudges Tadashi with his toes, “You can’t get caught up thinking like that if you’re going to stay here.”

“I know,” Tadashi agrees. “I won’t.”

“If you do, you can call me,” Kei offers.

Tadashi beams at him. “I know, now get packing,” he orders.

Kei groans, but heaves him up off of the floor.

Leaving comes  quickly after that. They drive to the train station in Sendai—Tadashi will take public transportation after they return the rental. They grab a quick sandwich and tea at a café at the station before Kei’s train arrives.

It pulls on his heart like he’s a fish on a hook. It may have come quickly, but it’s no easier for it. Himawari had cried when he said goodbye, clinging to him as she wailed. Kei doesn’t much blame her—with his ticket and suitcase in hand, staring at the train tracks with Tadashi’s shoulder brushing his own, he much wants to do the same.

Agreeing  that he had to go back alone does not mean he’s at peace with it. As the train pulls in, he turns to face Tadashi, mouth parting in a wordless sigh.

Tadashi looks up at him with a similar expression before he smiles.

“It’s just for a week,” Tadashi says softly, pressing a kiss to Kei’s cheek. “Pretend I’m away on an internship again. It’s just like then.”

“I still worried then. I still missed you.”

“You’ll go grey.”

Kei clicks his tongue at his lover, “Still doesn't stop me from worrying.”

“That’s alright,” Tadashi laughs, grabbing onto fistfuls of Kei’s shirt as he hugs him fiercely. “You’d look good as a silver fox.”

Kei wraps his arms tightly around Tadashi’s waist, as he presses his cheek to Tadashi’s temple, glasses painful against their skin. Neither of them move, only holding tighter. Kei leans back so he can pull Tadashi closer, the other man rising to the tips of his toes with the movement. They hold on.

Kei can feel Tadashi’s lips moving against his ear, but his voice is silent. Kei still knows, he mouths the same thing.

_I love you, be safe, I love you, I’ll see you later._

They part slowly, silently. Kei takes his luggage and steps back, turns, and boards the train. He doesn’t look back.

He closes his eyes and waits;  he plays with his phone, posts a scathing twitter comment about traveling, reads. He resists the urge to text Tadashi.

In fact, the next contact with Tadashi that he allows himself is only a text: A text to let Tadashi know that he’s home safe, their plants didn’t die, and that he loves him and he’s going to bed. He turns his phone on silent and flips it face-down onto the coffee table before Tadashi replies.

Kei doesn’t go to bed. He grabs a beer from the fridge and drinks slowly, surveying their apartment with new eyes.  He sits on the couch, just looking. He doesn’t know how long he just looks.

There’s a knock at the front door, and for one brief, stupid second, Kei thinks that Tadashi’s changed his mind about all of this and has come back to Tokyo. He lets himself imagine. Because he’s pathetic.

But no, it’s just Kuroo. Kei sighs and slams the door in the older man’s face. “Go away,” he mutters through the door. He rubs his eyes underneath his glasses, swallowing past the tightness in his throat; Tadashi’s never changed his mind about anything, so he doesn’t know why he let himself entertain the millisecond’s idea that the other man was anything but serious about staying in Miyagi.

Not after they’d fought over it, and fought for it. And not so soon. He blames the beer, exhaustion.

He can hear Kuroo bitching at him from the other side of the door and he thinks about his options. He could be alone and drinking in his apartment like a sap, or he could pretend to be social and drink and not have to deal with the neighbors calling the landlord to complain about Kuroo’s ever-increasing volume.

He opens the door again, “Why are you here?” he asks.

“You said you were back! So I came to grace you with my presence, catch up on gossip, see if you brought back any presents,” Kuroo says easily. He slides in the door, ignoring the fact that Kei hasn’t even bothered to invite him in yet.

This is just how it goes when Kuroo is around. The man is a whirlwind of impulse and wit. 

Kuroo peers around the apartment as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket. “Hey, where’s Yama-chan?”

Kei makes a face of disgust at the older man, “Can you not refer to him like that? It’s gross and you sound like a pervert.”

“Yama-chan never complains,” Kuroo pouts, making his way past Kei into the living room and draping himself across the sofa. “He thinks it’s funny!”

“That’s because Tadashi’s too polite to tell you that you sound like a creepy old man,” Kei says flatly. He strides into the kitchen to pull a second beer out of the fridge. “And he’s laughing at _you_ and not because he thinks the nickname is cute.”

Kuroo slings his hand over his face dramatically and groans. “You wound me, Tsukki! So, so mean!”

Kei grits his teeth and drops the beer onto Kuroo’s stomach, relishing the sound of an actual groan of pain from his friend. “And I’ve been telling you for _years_ to not call me Tsukki.”

“Oya, you’re in a shit mood,” Kuroo snorts, he sits up and sets the can onto the floor. He crosses his legs and raises an eyebrow up at the blond. “It’s like, radiating off of you. Where the heck is Tadashi, you need your mediator. Or to get laid. Something. You’re like a wet cat.”

Kei sinks to the floor and leans against the sofa. He grabs his half-empty beer and drains the rest of it without a word. He’s not sulking. He really isn’t. He told Tadashi he was going to be fine with this arrangement, and he is. “Miyagi,” he answers finally. “With his family.”

“…We-ell, funerals are difficult; it’s not a big surprise he needs to stay a while longer, you know? Stop acting like you’ve had your favorite toy taken away. He’ll be back in, what, a week or so?” Kuroo snorts.

He tentatively pops the lid of his beer, holding it away from him in case it decides to fizz everywhere. He’s careful to point it away from Kei; normally he wouldn’t bother, but he can literally feel the blond’s bad mood, and without Tadashi around to temper him, Kuroo really doesn’t want to know what would happen if Kei were to say, finally snap, and make good on all those years of idle threats. He doesn’t much feel like getting his ass kicked without even having a single beer yet, thanks. He still remembers the glitter in his shampoo—Kei is the vengeful sort.

“I don’t know when he’s coming back,” Kei mutters. “He said a week. But...” He sets his empty can aside and crosses his arms over his knees. He doesn’t like the way it sounds in the air; in Miyagi with Tadashi still in his arms and the brunet looking him with longing clear in his eyes and Himawari in his lap, the prospect sounded warmer. More doable. Less lonely. “We’re not too sure.”

“What’s up with that?” Kuroo asks, frowning over at Kei. He sits up and leans forward, setting the beer aside, sensing the tension in Kei.

“…He wants to adopt the little girl whose parents died,” Kei says after a long moment. “And it’s… it’s probably going to be really messy,” he sighs. “Since there are more closely related relatives that could become her legal guardian, despite the fact that they don’t want her. It's going to jam up the process. But Tadashi wants her, and he wants her bad.”

“So… he’s going to adopt the girl, and then come back to Tokyo? You two are going to be parents?” Kuroo asks slowly, raising an eyebrow. Tadashi he can see being a parent, easy. He takes care of everyone; he remembers being told laughingly by Hinata once that Tadashi took over the role of ‘team mom’ once Sugawara had graduated. Kei, on the other hand… he has a harder time imagining with a kid. Kei does well enough with people, but Kuroo can't remember ever seeing him with a kid.

“It’s not that easy. Us being gay isn’t going to win any favors in any sort of court,” Kei sighs. “It’s going to be hard to balance our lives and careers and convince the courts that we can take care of a little girl. That’s of course if the family agrees to let him take guardianship.”

 “So… what happens? Best case scenario, they let him try?”  

“He goes to family court,” Kei says with a sigh, bringing his hand up to rub at his eyes. The after images of the texts he'd pulled up on his phone on the ride back burn behind his eyelids. “They’re going to want to put her with her grandmother, but she doesn’t want the kid and it’s going to be a mess just because of that. And he wants me to apply afterwards for spousal adoption, and do the whole inheritance adoption registry so it looks like we’re married, and it’s just… I don’t know how we’re going to do this thing, because there’s a period of time that Tadashi has to go without the rest of the family objecting to the adoption, and you, well, you’ve heard how his family got.”

“I see.” Kuroo passes his beer to Kei. The guy needs it more than he does. 

Kei takes it and drains it just as easily as he did his first. Kuroo pauses; “…Do you want Tadashi to do this?”

“…the thing is, yes,” Kei mutters. “You should have seen him, Kuroo, _god_. He was so natural with her and she adored him. …me, too,” he adds. "The kid... liked me too." 

“That’s good,” Kuroo says warmly, “That she likes you both.”

“ I never knew he wanted kids,” Kei says quietly. He looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I’ve been living with him for seven years, dating him for eight, and I’ve known him for more, and I never knew that was a thing he ever thought about wanting.”

“He’s always been happy with you; there just wasn't room yet, to want that,” Kuroo says awkwardly. He’s always felt weird when he has to step back into his role of captain, the voice of reason, especially in any conversation with Kei; their friendship has always been based on sarcasm and pushing each other’s buttons. Even when he _was_ a captain. “You can suddenly want something new, without it meaning you were unhappy before.”

“I know,” Kei answers. “It’s just… you would think that wanting a kid is something you always want. But. If this happens, I know he’s going to be even happier.”

“If you know it’s going to make him happy,” Kuroo starts carefully, “Then why are you so upset? Why the nasty mood?" 

Kei pauses and stares at his hands for a long moment, not really seeing them. There are moments, feelings, impressed upon him that he sees instead:

The slow way the smile slides off of Akiteru’s face and the feeling of free-falling while on solid ground; a grassy hill at a school here in Tokyo, heat pressing down on his back; feeling like he can’t breathe when he looks up, squinting against the sunlight, the sight of Tadashi’s back filling his vision: it’s damp with sweat and sticking to thin shoulder blades and see-through at the small of his back. He can see the dark cluster of moles at the base of his friend’s spine, see the way it curves straight for the first time in his memory, and he watches as it grows smaller as Tadashi crests the hill without him.

He thinks of the empty feeling he woke with that morning, the ache of being scared. Of Tadashi’s hair brushing his face and of having to ask to be included. Of strings and nets and knots and the ring on his finger and their joint bank account.

He thinks of the laws he knows, and the peeling paint on their walls that is no longer charming and quaint, but dingy and run-down and cheap. Of the weeks of balancing money that they do, and what would have to happen to meet the requirements those laws introduce to them. Of the feeling he sees blooming behind Tadashi's eyes like a time-laspe photo. 

“I don’t want to be left behind,” he says quietly.


	11. Changes On Our Hands and On Our Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't know desperation until you're digging the original text out of a corrupted autosave file guys. 
> 
> This fic has officially turned 1 year old! ; w ; -b Thank you for sticking with me, and here's for going forward towards the end! Also thank you to everyone who's privately chatted with me about this fic on tumblr and made wonderful fanart!  
> (Also this has only gotten a pass and a half through on the editing front, but I got excited that it was done and couldn't wait soooooooooooo, yeahhhhh.... OTL))

In the end, Kuroo spends the night at the apartment. Neither of them had gotten exactly drunk, but Kei decided to just let Kuroo crash on their sofa, unwilling to risk Tadashi or Kenma’s wrath from sending Kuroo home tipsy. It wasn't like he extended the invitation because he didn't want to be alone, it was just... more convenient to him to have Kuroo spend the night. 

Kei rouses early, hearing Kuroo snore from the couch. It’s weird and it makes his head ache. He rolls over and checks the time. Opens Tadashi’s contact information.

_Are you awake?_

The answer comes a few seconds later in the form of a call. His phone only buzzes for a second before he answers, chuckling softly. “What did you bribe Kuroo with?”

“Who me?” Tadashi asks. “What, is he snoring too loudly?”

“Unbearably,” Kei answers, curling under the sheets.

“I thought you would appreciate the company,” Tadashi says quietly.

Kei gives a soft noise in the back of his throat. “It’s less company and more keeping a pet.”

“Tsukki,” Tadashi chides, laughing despite himself.

“You know it’s true, he gets underfoot like a giant cat,” Kei snickers. “Eats all our food and knocks over our plants. Gets in the way.”

Tadashi laughs harder, pulling a grin from Kei’s face. He grips his phone, glass warm against his cheek. He stretches his free hand and rests his fingers against Tadashi’s side of the bed. “Did you sleep well?” he whispers, feeling soft around the edges. He closes his eyes and listens to Tadashi’s voice in his ear.

“More or less,” Tadashi answered. “I woke up without the covers, so I was chilly.”

“Restless?” Kei asks, tapping his fingers against the sheets.

“Yeah,” Tadashi replies softly; “No one around to keep me in place when I sleep.”

Kei can hear the warm ache in his chest mirrored in Tadashi’s voice. “What will you do without me?”

“Roll off of the bed,” Tadashi answers promptly. “I’m going to have to strap myself into bed.”

“Kinky,” Kei snickers, enjoying the click of Tadashi’s tongue and huff of laughter against his ear. He waits until Tadashi has stopped snorting to continue. “How’s… how’s Himawari doing?”

Tadashi sighs softly, “Ah. She cried quite a bit when I got back. She’ll only accept piggyback rides from you, it seems.”

“Were you up late?” Kei asks.

Tadashi hums softly. “Not really, she cried herself out in the end. Mom won’t put the crib back in my room though.”

“Why not?”

“More of the same, really,” Tadashi sighs. There’s a rustle of sheets through the speaker before he continues. “It’s not as if she really wants me to take her.”

Kei sighs through his nose and rolls over again. “Yeah.”

“I had to fight to let her put the monitor in my room,” Tadashi murmurs wearily. “Kei… I miss you.”

Kei closes his eyes tightly and squeezes the phone, throat tight. His heart thuds painfully and speeds, pulse harsh against his neck. He feels sick. “Tashi, it’s only been one night,” he says, voice almost a breath. “Please.”

Kei can count the recent times he’s used the pet name on both hands. The childhood nickname is something he uses when Tadashi’s cracked him open and aching, scooped out and tender with the welling of emotions he can barely describe.

Tadashi makes a soft noise. “It doesn’t change that I miss you already.”

“You don’t need me to fight your battles for you,” Kei whispers, face hot. “You’re plenty capable.”

“It’s easier when you’re here,” Tadashi laughs. “It’s always been like that.”

“And you’ve always been able to,” Kei counters quietly.

Tadashi is quiet for a long moment, the only sound is his breath, soft and slow. It hitches once against Kei’s ear and Kei’s stomach lurches.

“I’m here,” Kei says softly.

It could mean a myriad of things. That he’s in Tokyo, away from Tadashi. That he’s thinking of him. That he’s there behind him all the way, that he’s in Tadashi’s corner.

“I know,” Tadashi answers.

It means all of them.

In the silence that follows their conversation, Kei decides that there’s no way that he’s going to let Tadashi go alone. It isn't a hard decision to make; it's one he made a long time ago, even before he realized that he was in love with Tadashi. Tadashi had stuck with Kei even when Kei had done his best to shake Tadashi off, had been so locked into his own anxieties that his friend had to grow on his own, that Kei decided that he'd give a damn and stick with him that same night that Tadashi curled his fingers into his shirt and shook him. Since then, Kei has never wavered in his decision to stand by Tadashi's side. 

Sure, sometimes, they fight. He gets angry and stubborn and momentarily will lose sight of all the reasons why he wants to support his best friend and lover. But he always comes back, because that, too, is a decision he'd made. And as they age, the definition of supporting Tadashi has changed; this is just one of these times.

He plays host for Kuroo for a while—they go out to eat and drink shitty coffee and Kenma meets up with them around noon to pick up Kuroo and chat. He goes grocery shopping and texts Tadashi and saves the pictures Tadashi sends him of Himawari covered in mud to his phone.

He still calls out a greeting when he opens the door to the apartment, despite knowing it’s empty and dark.  He stands in the silence for a moment, eyes taking in the dim light of their once-charming, now dingy, apartment. It’s the same as it was before they left the week before.

Nothing is out of place. The walls are still the same, the curtain that hides their washer and dryer is still haphazardly crooked because Kei always trips over the edge of it when he’s unloading the dryer. Their tray of succulents and violets is well tended and all their books are still stacked and disordered, their position only changed to make room for the beer bottles from the night before.

No dishes in the sink. No second set of shoes or keys in the tray by the door. Tadashi’s coat still hangs on the hook, a lone cherry petal on the collar.

By the time he came back from Miyagi, all the trees on the lane had dropped their petals, bright green leaves taking the soft haze of pink from the sidewalks.  Now, the sidewalks are simply littered with browning and bruised petals.

Nothing has changed except for time.

He sighs and toes his shoes off, flicking the light to their living area on with his elbow.

It feels strange to put away groceries and make dinner alone. He still has the white noise of traffic and his music. Everything is still in its place, but Kei feels like he’s been dumped into some other person’s kitchen.

It’s comparable to the time that Kuroo and Hinata had moved everything in the apartment slightly to the left during a week’s visit a few years ago. Just off enough to be unsettling, but not quite enough to put his finger on why exactly.

Only it’s obvious what it is this time.

He’s never considered himself a particularly needy person; in fact, he thought he was quite independent, thank you very much. But Tadashi’s absence is almost crippling. Their apartment, comfortably small, is too large, too empty.

It’s still home, but not quite as much as it is with Tadashi in it. He eats his dinner standing up, leaning against the counter. He crosses his legs in front of him, counter’s edge biting into his lower back. He tries not to think about the logistics of a toddler in the apartment.

It’s hard. 

He supposes that they could get rid of a few things, especially in their bedroom, but even then… there’d be no room for her to stretch out and play. There are parks, but it isn’t like they can just be outside all the time. There’s rain, and at night… They could wedge a crib into the bedroom, he supposes, but it would be more space efficient to co-sleep.

He wonders if that would even be appropriate, rice slipping out of his chopsticks in a slow stream back into his bowl. He takes a bite without realizing he’s not putting anything in his mouth.

There are a lot of stacked books, too, that they just don’t have room to shelve. Textbooks, law books, just plan reading books. That wouldn’t be safe either. One ill-advised running toddler could bring the whole thing down, and Kei’s been on the wrong side of a book avalanche before.

Rice falls into his shirt and he shakes himself out of his idle train of thought.

“It’s not even like we’re going to get her,” he scolds himself. He sets his bowl aside and rubs his face tiredly, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, glasses resting on his knuckles.

What is he even thinking? Until Tadashi suggested adopting Himawari, he hadn’t seen them as anything more than glorified babysitters. He’d be a terrible parent.

He isn’t even sure if he wants the responsibility. He enjoyed looking after Himawari, yes, but… the idea of it in the long term is horrifying, really.

He picks the cold pieces of rice out of his shirt and grabs his phone. Dials. Waits.

“Tsukki!” Tadashi complains, sounding out of breath, “At least text before you call!”

“Sorry,” Kei laughs. “What are you all out of breath for?”

“Bathtime,” Tadashi laments. There’s a shriek, followed by high pitched giggles. “Gotcha!”

“She’s running?”

“Mmhm,” Tadashi says, sounding a bit muffled. There’s a clatter that tells Kei that Tadashi just dropped the phone as the sounds of Himawari’s laughter gets louder followed by several thumps and a distant sounding ‘sorry Tsukki!’.

Kei laughs, closing his eyes and leaning back into the counter. He can still see it in his mind.

Himawari, laughing as she toddles away from Tadashi, who probably isn’t trying all that hard to catch her—the little girl could only go so fast, after all, before she would fall.

Tadashi’s parents hadn’t really approved of letting her run around after playtime was over—in their opinion, that sort of thing was done outside where things couldn’t get knocked over—but Tadashi obviously hadn’t taken it to heart. Kei supposes they must be out.

A few minutes later, he hears Tadashi’s voice again, slowly becoming clearer.

“—and then it’s time for a bath! And after, it’s jammy time.”

“Rrrrrrrr!”

“That’s right you can wear the _rrr_ ones,” Tadashi laughs. “But right now, it’s time to say hi to Tsukki.”

“Hihihiii!”  
  
“Wait, wait, into the phone, Ri-chan,” Tadashi instructs. There’s rustling and then Himawari’s voice loud as she shouts, “ _hi_!”

“Oooh, ok ok no no,” Tadashi laughs. “Soft, soft. We talk in phones softly. Like this: Hi, Tsukki,” he says.

“Hello, Tadashi, hello, Himawari,” Kei says, chuckling. He’s rewarded with another shriek in his ear, one that sounds like “ _shuuki_!”  from the toddler.  A smile spreads across his lips and he tips his head back, cradling the phone against his ear as Tadashi tries to urge Himawari into being quieter.

“Bath time, okay, bath time,” Tadashi tells her softly. “Can I call you back?”

“Ah… do you have to hang up?” Kei asks, “I don’t mind it if you don’t talk much.”

“I mean… I suppose I could put the phone on speaker?” Tadashi suggests.

Kei closes his eyes. “Yeah, actually. I have some work I have to do for class, so, that would be good. We could both put it on speaker?”

“Yeah,” Tadashi agrees. There’s a muffled noise, then everything grows a bit louder in Kei’s ear, Tadashi’s voice almost echoing. “There we go. I’m gonna stuff this in my pocket.”  
  
“Alright,” Kei agrees. “So, how have you been?”

“Oh, good, I suppose,” Tadashi answers over Himawari’s chant of ‘ _shuuki shukki_ ’. “Ri-chan, shhh, he heard you.”

“Hello, Himawari,” Kei says again, laughing. “Listen to Tadashi, alright?”

“Nnnoooo,” Himawari whines.

Tadashi snorts, then grunts as Himawari gives a small shout, voice shrill as she laughs. “Oh no, no, no more running. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want jammy time?”

“Rrrrrr?”

“Yeah! Don’t you want to go _rrr_?”

“No bath?”

“Yes bath,” Tadashi says sternly.

“Shuuki! No bath!”

Kei laughs loudly, snickering as he pushes off of the counter. He taps the speaker icon on his screen and sets  the phone on the counter. “Sorry kiddo, it’s bath time,” he informs the girl.

“See?” Tadashi laughs. “Now get in the bath.”

Kei finishes his dinner as Tadashi bathes Himawari, keeping up the small talk and engaging the little girl in conversation. He washes dishes while Tadashi and Himawari eat dinner, and sets into his schoolwork as Himawari is put to bed.

“Okay, off of speaker time,” Tadashi says finally, the sound of a door closing behind him.

“Yeah? She asleep?”  
  
“Finally,” Tadashi sighs softly. “God, I’m tired.”

Kei pauses his fingers over his keyboard, closing his eyes. “Yeah?” he asks, giving a soft chuckle. “Out of shape, are we?”

Tadashi laughs, “Something like that.”

Kei remains quiet for a moment, rolling his next words in his mouth a moment before he speaks. “Did you remember to take your meds?”

“Yep,” Tadashi says, giving another chuckle. “Right on time.”

“Good,” Kei murmurs. His fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and comb his fingers through Tadashi’s hair. “Tell me if you start to forget?”

“I will,” Tadashi murmurs, voice warm. “It’s not that, Tsukki, I’m only tired because it’s just been me and Himawari all day. And she’s never wanted a break.”

“All day? Where are your parents?” Kei asks, frown creasing his brows.

“They and the rest of the family went back up to Sendai to see grandmother,” Tadashi says dismissively. “Good riddance, though.”

Kei snorts, “God, Tadashi.”

“No, really,” Tadashi whines. “Hold on, I’m putting you back on speaker while I change for bed.”

“Got it.”

“But really! After we spoke this morning, mom was on my case because I let Himawari pick out her own clothes! Like, really?” Tadashi continues, voice rising and falling in volume as he gets undressed. “I mean, she’s barely two, let the kid pick her socks out,” Tadashi continues.

“They didn’t match, did they?” Kei asks, eyes scanning the document he’s annotating.

“Nope, not at all,” Tadashi chirps.

“Did you tell her that sometimes I go to court with mismatched socks on?” Kei asks, resuming typing.

“I can’t make the retorts sound as snippy as you can, Tsukki,” Tadashi whines. There’s a loud _whumph_ noise, which Kei interprets as Tadashi falling onto his mattress. “It always comes out a little like a question.”

“You can be snippy,” Kei says softly.

“I can,” Tadashi agrees.

Kei hums into the silence. Then continues, “So your parents are being their normal selves, just… be better than them.”

Tadashi laughs, “Tsukki, your logic is astounding.”

“Oh shut up,” Kei snickers.

Tadashi hums once and the sound of his breathing is soft in the speakers of Kei’s phone.

“You going to bed?” Kei asks softly.

“Yeah,” Tadashi answers.

“Don’t hang up. Just go to sleep,” Kei says. “I won’t talk.”

There’s a moment of silence then Tadashi’s voice, “We haven’t done this since high school.”

“I know,” Kei answers. He remembers the quiet phone calls, where they couldn’t say too much of anything, because Tadashi’s parents were listening. Of wanting to be together all the time, of how desperate it felt to be young, and how angry they were when Tadashi’s parents took their free time for them. Of the way Kei held his phone to his ear, feeling the plastic and metal grow hot against his touch as he listened to Tadashi’s quiet voice reading homework questions out to him, because they couldn’t study together anymore. Of waking up late because his battery died, and still thinking it was worth it.

“It feels like forever ago,” Tadashi yawns. “Even though, I suppose it wasn’t _too_ long ago.”

“The circumstances are a lot different now,” Kei murmurs, “So remember that.”

Tadashi yawns again, and replies: “Kei, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kei whispers. “Go to sleep.”

“’Kay,” Tadashi says softly, voice muffled. The line is silent save for the faint noise of Tadashi manhandling his pillow into shape, which makes Kei grin fondly to himself. Soon enough, Tadashi’s snuffling snores punctuate the sound of Kei’s keyboard.

Kei finishes his annotations a few hours later, leans back, and yawns. He must be louder than he thought he was, because he hears a soft snuffling from his phone. 

“Go to sleep, Tsukki,” Tadashi slurs softly.

It’s almost like Tadashi’s there with him. Kei closes his eyes as he pushes his laptop closed and scoops his phone up. He cradles it to his chest, keeping his eyes shut tightly as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says again, voice still indistinct with sleep.

With his eyes closed, Kei can pretend that Tadashi’s in bed next to him, scolding him for staying up too late. He sets the phone by his pillow and shucks his jeans off, curling under the covers in his tee shirt and boxers. The sheets are cold, but when he touches his phone to plug it into the charger, Tadashi’s voice is close.

“Sleep. School in the morning.”

“I know. Goodnight, Tadashi,” he whispers. Tadashi’s snores are his lover’s only reply, and as much as Kei teases Tadashi for snoring too loudly, they lull Kei to sleep. 

* * *

 

As much as it pains Kei to admit, it’s easy to fall back into routine once he’s back at school and work. Between class and cram school, practice trials and filing documents at his fellowship, the hollow ache of going home to an empty apartment dulls. He still misses Tadashi, of course, but it’s tempered with exhaustion and the promise of falling asleep on the line with Tadashi.

He knows it isn’t quite as easy for Tadashi, who has only Himawari and his family to distract him.

So far, at least, Tadashi seems to be handling it rather well. From his daily reports, it seems like he’s been able to go visit Kei’s family, even Akiteru, as well as their friends from high school, when he’s feeling cooped up.

Tadashi’s parents had gone back to work, and the last of the lingering extended members leave mid-week, so for the most part, Tadashi’s given free reign with Himawari’s care.

And then his phone rings on Thursday afternoon.

He feels it buzz in his pocket, but he ignores it; everyone knows when he’s unavailable, and will leave a message. He continues on listening to his sempai lecture his study group about the salient points of the civil case they were supposed to be studying for their next exam.

But then it rings again. He’s annoyed for a brief second as he tries to wiggle his phone out of his pants pocket, but then a tendril of anxiety curls up against the back of his throat. The only people who would call him multiple times is his family… and Tadashi.

He scoots his chair back a bit so he can peer at the screen under the library table. Tadashi’s contact information is bright against his fingers, and not even the picture of Tadashi posing in a cat-eared hoodie can dispel the feeling of being doused in ice.

The study group is informal, so he’s able to excuse himself easily to answer the phone. He leaves his laptop and bag behind with his classmates, weaving through chaise lounges and computer tables as he answers the phone on his way outside.

“Tadashi? What’s wrong? I’m in at study group,” he says, forgoing any hellos. He half hopes that Himawari’s gotten a hold of Tadashi’s phone, but it’s ruined when he hears sniffles on the other end.

There’s a long silence at the other end of the line, just the rough noise of Tadashi crying. Kei feels like he’s about to throw up. “Tashi?” he says urgently, throat tight.

It was a bad idea to leave him with his parents, he shouldn’t have, it was selfish to let him stay alone. School could wait, he has all of his life to do it—there are lots of schools with law degrees, but only one Tadashi. Leaving Tadashi alone with his parents when they were unhappy was something he’d learned to never do, and he’d done it twice in two weeks, and it was a bad idea.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi cries, “Tsukki—”

“I’m here,” Kei says, sunlight blinding him as he steps outside of the library. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“S-sorry—you’re at s-sc—sch—”

Tadashi chokes on the word _school_ and Kei wishes he could wrap his arms around the other man. “Shhh, shh. It’s okay, hey. Hey, baby, calm down, can you calm down?”

“N-no,” Tadashi hiccups. “I c-can’t—I’m so—Tsukki, they knew and they still—they knew!”

Kei is shocked at the raw anger in Tadashi’s cry; he’s completely lost, but the anger’s presence soothes his worries just a bit. If Tadashi was angry, it was at least a little okay. He sits on the edge of the building, where there’s a bench set into the window. “They? Your parents?”

“My entire family, Kei,” Tadashi spits out, then gives a vocal shudder before dissolving into another round of loud sobs.

“Shhh, shhhh,” Kei murmurs. He shoots an ugly look at a classmate who’s stuck their head out of the building—presumably to check on him. She shrugs and heads back inside without comment. “Tadashi, can you tell me what happened?”

“They—they signed the will without—without—even though th-they knew! They signed the-the papers—that le-lets them ha-have guardianship without t-telling me,” Tadashi sobs. “They n-never wanted me to have a chance.”

Kei slouches forward, half in relief that Tadashi's—or Himawari, he finds himself thinking— not physically hurt and half in thought. He shifts and braces his elbows against his knees. “Tadashi, shhh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, raking one hand through his hair, his mind racing. 

“No it’s _not_!” Tadashi yells back. “What, it’s okay because I get to come home and pay attention to you now?!”

“Tadashi, no,” Kei says, stricken by the accusatory tone that’s been leveled at him. “No—that’s not it. It’s just—”

“That what you think I can’t do it anyway, so it’s fine? That’s just okay that my parents can get their hands on another kid, and ignore them too?”

Kei scrubs his hand through his hair harder. They’d gone for so long without fighting, and now it’s all back up at the surface again. It's the old problem all over again, neither of them are communicating the way they should. He takes a deep breath and swallows back the hurt and the urge to snap back. “Tadashi, listen to me, it’s okay,” he says desperately, fighting to keep from shouting, “That doesn’t mean they get to _keep_ her—”

“Oh,” Tadashi breathes.

Kei leans into his palm, glad at least that Tadashi’s momentary flare of anger had halted his sobbing. “Look, I—” he says slowly, closing his eyes as his glasses slide down his nose. “I… I looked into the… laws…. Regarding adopting if the primary parents are dead. I’ve been doing research after school, asking around.”

He feels his face heat up; it feels to fragile to admit, especially after being lashed out at. “I thought that maybe, it would be a good idea to… since you’re serious.”

“Oh,” Tadashi repeats. He sniffles again and whimpers softly. It’s muffled. 

“Hey, if you’re biting yourself, don’t,” Kei murmurs. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay,” Tadashi murmurs, “Yeah. Okay. Um. I’m sorry…”

“I know,” Kei says softly. “I know.”

“It’s just frustrating, I don’t… they didn’t tell me, they came back and told me,” Tadashi says softly. He sounds broken, and it hurts Kei.

Tadashi hiccups and sniffles again. “I just, they don’t want me to do anything ever that’s good for me. I don’t think they care.”

“I know,” Kei answers. “Look, Tadashi, you know, maybe it’s a good thing they did that. If you can win them over, it could be an easier case for the children’s court.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kei replies, leaving the ‘maybe’ unspoken. It would be cruel to mention that it’s a system geared towards keeping children with their mothers, even if those women were abusing their children. There’s not a lot to go for towards fathers getting their children, much less someone else’s. But in-family adoptions are another set of laws and cases, and he just doesn’t have the research yet to really say.

But that’s not what Tadashi needs. He wishes he was with Tadashi, to pet his hair back and cradle him close and rub his back until he’s calm. He’s unsatisfied with talking Tadashi through it, but does it anyway. Before he hangs up with a promise to speak to him later, Kei even manages to draw a shakey laugh from Tadashi.

Friday evening could not come quickly enough. It’s only one day away, but it feels like another week has been added to his wait. He doesn’t find comfort in Tadashi’s shallow breathing on the other line as he lies in bed, knowing from the quiet murmurs and shuffling of pillows that his lover is having a hard time sleeping as well.

Even Himawari had picked up on Tadashi’s sullen mood during their now-nightly Skype call, lips trembling as she patted Tadashi’s face until the other man had to laugh.

He wishes he could skip work to go meet Tadashi at the train station. But Tadashi would surely scold him and sour the entire evening, especially because Kei knows Tadashi would be right.

It doesn’t stop him from fidgeting and looking at the clock like he’s a grade schooler  all over again, especially once Tadashi texts him that he’s arrived, and is home, complete with a happy emoji throwing sparkles.

Kei chuckles and sends a message back, though minus the sparkle emoji. He wouldn’t use that one until _after_ he’s off work.

After the last file is filed and the last client has been phoned, Kei sends a text to Tadashi (with the emoji—he hopes that it makes Tadashi laugh, at least) that he’s on his way home.

He refuses to say he rushes, but if he’s out of breath when he finally opens the apartment door, it’s something that can’t be helped.

“I’m home!” he says, for the first time all week.

The apartment is bright, music is playing, and he can smell food; it’s take-out, he can tell by the way the air is somewhat spicier than how they cook, even though Tadashi’s painstakingly moved everything out of their boxes and into real plates.

Tadashi himself is uncurling himself from their couch, beaming in that quiet way of his that makes Kei’s heart flutter and his mouth dry. “Welcome home,” he says.

Kei can see it in Tadashi’s face, in the soft lines of his smile, in the crease in his eyes and the way he trails his fingers against the back of their couch as he moves forward to meet Kei at the door that Tadashi's seen their apartment the same way he did, fresh off the train from Miyagi.

He knows the peeling paint and rattling air conditioning and less than reliable heat may be fine for college students, but would be another mark against them in a system that does not want them to raise a child.

He doesn't say anything about this, and neither does Tadashi. Their eyes meet, and they know they are of the same opinion, much in the same way they would exchange glances in high school, middle school, even in the months after they met, only to break out into spontaneous laughter.

It doesn't mean that Kei's made peace with it, though. Or that he's ready to talk about it yet. 

He doesn't comment on Tadashi's mostly empty bags that are still in the entryway, packed for a visit, not a return trip. He merely wraps his arms around Tadashi's waist, face pressed to Tadashi's jaw and ear.

Tadashi, in return, hums and shifts from foot to foot, rocking as he holds Kei's wrists. “Food’s gonna be cold,” he chides softly.

“We’ve eaten cold takeout before,” Kei murmurs, pressing the flat of his hands to Tadashi’s back, pressing him close.

Tadashi stretches his back, pressing up against Kei as Kei kisses his cheeks. “But I’m hungry, Tsukki,” he whines.

“I can be quick,” Kei says, serious, even though it makes Tadashi laugh.

“Tsukki, be patient,” Tadashi says, reaching up to cup Kei’s face between his palms. “And stop pouting, you’re making the fishy face.”

“That’s you,” Kei manages as Tadashi pushes at his cheeks, lips pursed out. “You are who is making me make the fish face.”

Tadashi laughs again, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Kei’s puckered out lips. He lets go of Kei’s face, only for Kei to catch his wrists.

“If I eat, then can I kiss you?” Kei murmurs, dropping his face to Tadashi’s hands. He presses soft kisses to the inside of Tadashi’s palms, finishing with a kiss over the silver band on his finger.

“If it was just kissing, I’d let you kiss me now,” Tadashi chides.

“Just a kiss, then,” Kei laughs.

“I gave you one, mister fishy face,” Tadashi snickers, taking a step backwards.

Kei lets Tadashi tug him forward, stepping out of his shoes easily. “Okay, so maybe one more?”

“Tsukki!” Tadashi chides, laugher warming Kei’s cheeks as he grins at his lover.

“No? You’re absolutely sure you want to kiss me after spicy, garlicky chicken noodles?” Kei leers, redirecting Tadashi to pin him up against the counter.

“I’ve kissed you with morning breath,” Tadashi laughs, folding his arms around Kei’s neck. “And after you’ve barfed, too.”

“You’ve also put your mouth on my a—”

“Tsukki!” Tadashi shrieks, shoving his hands up against Kei’s mouth, cheeks flushing scarlet. “Really!”

“What?” Kei whines, voice muffled, “It’s true.”

“Yeah, but like—you don’t have to say it so bluntly,” Tadashi stammers, voice pitching upwards as Kei licks the flat of his hand, “Kei! Behave!”

“I am behaving.”

“Badly,” Tadashi laughs, cheeks still pink. He beams up at Kei, eyes scrunched up as he laughs.

Kei grips Tadashi’s waist tightly, fingers finding the loops on his jeans as he leans forward and kisses Tadashi as he laughs. His mouth meets teeth more than lips and their noses bump messily, but that’s fine for Kei. He squeezes Tadashi’s thin hips, breathing in deeply. “You never said that wasn’t an option,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to Tadashi's.

More than anything, this is what he missed. The years of careful cultivation and building and wrecking private walls have all lead to this, where he can have Tadashi’s sharp hipbones against his hands and breathe in Tadashi’s snickering as he smirks himself, lazy and content as they tease each other without fear.

Tadashi reaches up and slides his fingers through Kei’s hair, tucking one errant curl behind the shell of Kei’s ear, knuckles bumping black frames. “No, I don’t suppose I did,” he murmurs, nose scrunching against Kei’s.

“You used the nice plates,” Kei replies, dropping a quick kiss to Tadashi’s lips.

“I did,” Tadashi agrees, chasing Kei’s mouth with a languid roll of his body that leans him up onto his toes and into Kei’s chest.

“I like that.”

“I know,” Tadashi says with a grin. “You like everything I do.”

“I do not like the fishy face,” Kei says, stepping back. He keeps his fingers hooked into Tadashi’s belt loops, tugging his lover forward step by step towards their tiny little two-person table.

“I think the fishy face is cute,” Tadashi says, blushing when Kei lets him go to pull a chair out for him. He sits and Kei gently nudges him closer to the table before seating himself. “I think you’re cute.”

“Dweeb,” Kei says fondly, hooking his ankles around Tadashi’s.

“Looser.”

“Dork.”

“Nerd.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of the glasses,” Kei mocks, rubbing his toes against Tadashi’s ankle.

Tadashi snorts into his noodles, “If I wanted to do that,” he shoots back; “I’d say hipster.”

“Ok, now you’re being mean,” Kei snickers, leaning his cheek against his hand, watching Tadashi eat.

Tadashi rolls his eyes. “Tsukki, eat,” he instructs as he points his chopsticks at Kei; “Look, now you’ve made me go and be rude.”

Kei snickers into his palm, but settles himself straight in his chair, digging into the slightly-warm take out. “You’ve always been rude,” he teases gently.

“Now look here, I’m a perfect angel,” Tadashi replies with his mouth full.

Kei smiles, “You are.”

“Tsukki,” Tadashi whines, curling his toes against Kei’s. “Tsukki,” he repeats again, softer. All at once the mood goes from playful to urgent. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too,” Kei says softly. He waves his hand at the food. “Now, since you made me eat, eat. We have all the time in the world to flirt, you know?”

Tadashi closes his eyes for a brief second before nodding and giving a soft smile. Kei knows, has known since he walked through the door, known since he’d gotten Tadashi calmed down the day before, that while they _do_ have time, it’s just not in the present.

But they _don’t_ have to talk about it tonight. “Tashi,” he says softly, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow?”

Tadashi bites his lip, then nods, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Tsukki’s so smart.”

Kei rolls his eyes and pointedly ignores the compliment, cheeks starting to burn. Tadashi chuckles  and rubs his heel against Kei’s shin.

They spent the rest of the evening like that, ostensibly in each other’s space and teasing each other, trying to pull the most color to their partner’s face. They leave the dishes in the sink and Tadashi’s bags in the door, their clothes a mess on the floor as they curl into each other at every given chance.

The shirts go first, as they put away leftovers, Kei’s face tucked against the curve of Tadashi’s neck as his breath hitches as Tadashi presses back into him, voice clear as a bell. Pants in the middle of a movie, Tadashi’s wandering hands too soft and his breath too hot on Kei’s collar. Underwear and socks are last, as they tangle into the sheets, their poor old bedsprings loud as they breathe in each other’s air and only quieting as they sink against each other, exhausted and tender.

Saturday morning greets them bright and cozy, sunlight filtering through the blinds of their bedroom. For once, Kei isn’t the first awake; he stirs sleepily, slowly becoming aware of the gentle fingers sliding through his hair.

He nuzzles Tadashi’s bare chest and grumbles as Tadashi huffs softly in silent laughter. Spit is damp against his mouth and Kei tries to ignore the sticky feeling of it drying against the press of his cheek to Tadashi’s sternum.

Tadashi pets through his hair slowly, rubbing his fingers in slow circles against Kei’s scalp. Kei yawns quietly and pushes himself closer to Tadashi, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Tadashi shifts slightly to allow Kei to snuggle in closer, curling and uncurling his toes against Kei’s calf in a slow rhythm. Kei lets his fingers rest against Tadashi’s spine in a loose fist, soothed by the repetitive motions of Tadashi’s fingers and toes on his skin. He’s just on the edge of falling asleep again, warm and relaxed by the rhythm of Tadashi’s heart when his lover’s stomach growls loudly.

“Oops, sorry Tsukki,” Tadashi giggles as Kei grumbles under his breath, stretching in a slow arch against Tadashi.

“Shut up,” Kei grouses, sliding up to rest his chin on Tadashi’s shoulder.

Tadashi reaches up and cups his cheek, guiding his chin up into a kiss. It’s close-lipped and chaste but Kei doesn’t really care about morning breath. They ate the same dinner, and both forewent brushing their teeth, so it’s not like he’s the only one who has sour breath. He cups his hands against the small of Tadashi’s back, sliding his tongue against the seam of Tadashi’s lips, urging the other man into a languid kiss.

Tadashi giggles against his mouth, teeth gently nipping at the tip of Kei’s tongue as he presses his thigh tight against the jut of Kei’s hip.

They kiss like that, tangling together just on the edge of playful and hungry, until Tadashi’s stomach growls again.

“Ok, I get it,” Kei mutters, drawing back with pink and shiny lips. “Pancakes?”

“Yes please,” Tadashi agrees happily, sitting up slowly. He stretches his hands over his head, back popping loudly as he yawns with exaggerated loudness.

Kei echoes the yawn, albeit quieter, reaching for his glasses. “I think there’s frozen strawberries in the freezer to make syrup from,” he mumbles, curling his toes against the cold wood floor. He rises a bit unsteadily, the base of his spine sore.

Tadashi pushes his fingers softly at the dimples above his lover’s buttocks, kneading into the tight muscles. Kei murmurs in appreciation, leaning into Tadashi’s touch.

Tadashi kisses Kei’s spine softly, scraping his teeth over the lone light-brown mole on Kei’s back. “Bacon?”

“Dunno,” Kei answers, sighing as Tadashi’s fingers work across to his sides, then around to rest flat on his stomach, Tadashi’s nose pressed against the curve of his back. “I think?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tadashi answers, nuzzling Kei’s back.

Kei gives a small shudder and slowly pulls away. Tadashi yawns in reply, a softer, less dramatic sound. “Definitely coffee,” Kei continues, tugging two pairs of boxers and two pairs of sweats from their drawer.

He tosses one pair of each to Tadashi, who flops back onto the bed to wiggle himself into them. Kei snorts and steps into his. “Come on, inchworm.”

“I am bigger than an inch,” Tadashi complains, waving a hand lazily in the air.

“Only when you’re hard,” Kei snickers, reaching out to tug Tadashi’s hand, pulling him out of the bed.

Tadashi scoffs, playfully smacking Kei on the rear as he turns, earning a small grunt from the blond man. “I can show you how hard I can be.”

“Yeah, says you,” Kei laughs, shuffling through their living area to the fridge. He kicks their discarded clothes to the side, aiming the ball of Tadashi’s jeans to their laundry alcove. It hits the curtain with a satisfying _thwack_ , rattling the curtain rings.

He can practically _hear_ Tadashi rolling his eyes and beams, happiness and despair fizzling up in him like soda bubbles.

They crowd each other’s space as they cook, Kei flipping lopsided pancakes that he’d tried to make into hearts at Tadashi’s urging (and ended up with amoebas in their place), and Tadashi stirring strawberries into boiling syrup, snickering all the while. Their hips bump and elbows jostle, but they make it into a game.

If the edge of one of the pancakes burn because they were kissing, well, they don’t mind too much. The coffee pot overflows because Tadashi decided to tickle Kei as he poured water into the reservoir, but Kei takes it in stride, dropping a cold strawberry down Tadashi’s pants, laughing as Tadashi shrieks and shakes his foot to dislodge it.

It’s like they’ve never been apart at all, and never will be. But, it can’t be avoided. So once they sit down and the food is mostly eaten, Kei clears his throat.

“So,” he says softly, from behind the rim of his coffee mug. Tadashi looks at him curiously, head tipped slightly; he’s got syrup on his chin. It’s so cute.

Kei reaches out and gently rubs the spot of syrup off. “You’re not staying, are you?” he asks.

Tadashi’s face softens in something that Kei identifies as a mix of guilt and pity. “No,” Tadashi breathes. “I’m… going back.”

“When?” Kei asks, throat aching.

“Monday evening,” Tadashi answers. “I’ve… made appointments with my professors, and with sensei at the clinic.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure,” Tadashi answers honestly. He reaches up and scratches at the nape of his neck, tugging his hair absently. Kei raises a hand to stop him, gently touching Tadashi’s elbow over the table.

Tadashi drops his hands to his lap, and looks at the smears of strawberry syrup on his plate. “I want to come back,” he says. “I want to stay. But… I can’t bring Himawari here.”

“No,” Kei agrees softly. “There’s no room here, and we can’t afford something bigger.”

“Right,” Tadashi murmurs sadly.

“Not yet,” Kei amends. “At least, not yet. Maybe one day.”

Tadashi smiles softly at Kei, nodding. “And,” he says, “It isn’t like I can spirit her away from my parents, now that they’re her official guardians.”

“No,” Kei says. He’s quiet for a long moment. “So…  you’re staying indefinitely?”

“I think so,” Tadashi replies. “I’m meeting with my professors to withdraw from the program. Theoretically, they can hold my place for a while, since it’s a family hardship. But I don’t want to worry about that at the same time I’m worrying about trying to get custody of Himawari.”

“I could go with you,” Kei says softly. “You and I. Get an apartment in Sendai, get jobs … It’d be cheaper, and we’d be close to your folks, see her everyday… we could… we could do that.”

“No,” Tadashi whispers, shaking his head. “You should finish your program.  Pass your bar.”

“Then I… I could transfer to the law program there,” Kei interjects. His hands are shaking. He knew this was coming, but it still hurts. He still wasn’t ready. He doesn’t think he would be ready. “I could just become a scrivenger or teach cram classes to lower level programs—I don’t have to take it yet, I could wait.”

“No,” Tadashi says again. “You should do what you set out to do.”

“I get three tries, then I have to wait for five years,” Kei murmurs. “As it is… even though I’m doing well… I’m still not ready. It could be years...”

“You’ve only just started your fellowship and your doctorate,” Tadashi replies, voice soft. “It’s okay to not be good at something right away.”

“But that’s why—that’s why it makes more sense for me to… to…And for you, if I go too, you could finish your program and we both watch her, take turns.”

“Kei, even if you were to transfer, there are no vet programs at my level in Miyagi,” Tadashi says gently. “And if you were to come with me, you’d still have to leave.”

“That’s only _if,”_ Kei protests quietly. He feels small and young, his arguments full of holes. He knows he’s only prolonging the inevitable, trying to keep from saying what he knows is the only solution. “Only if I pass.”

"When," Tadashi says firmly, not accepting the 'if'. There is no doubt in his mind or voice as to Kei's inevitable success.  "When you pass.”

"But you…  you've wanted to be a vet since you were a kid," Kei says urgently, voice cracking. He taps his fingers against the table, drawing lines against its surface. "I've only wanted this since... a few years ago. It doesn't seem fair that... it's _you_ , who has to give up. You've worked _hard._ "

"I don't think it's giving up," Tadashi says softly. He reaches out and touches Kei's hand, stilling its movements. "And even if it was, sometimes, it's okay to give up one dream for another, you know? It's not as if I don't plan on returning. It's more of a pause. It isn't failure, either."

"My mother never did go back," Kei says uncomfortably. "Not after having niisan."

"Do you think your mother's unhappy?"

"No, not at all. I just... wanted to..." Kei flounders, uncertain of what he really wanted, other than that his entire mind was screaming how utterly unfair the entire thing is.

"Your mother loves you and Aki-nii and loved raising you, and loves the work she does now," Tadashi says quietly. "She chose. I think... it would be best to choose to do this, and pause my doctorate, my training. I would never be happy if I didn't try."

"It's just... not fair."

Tadashi shrugs and squeezes Kei’s hand. Kei turns so his palm faces up, curling their fingers together.  “There are all sorts of things that aren’t fair—it’s not fair that Kana and Hideki died without seeing Himawari grow up.”

“I know, it’s just…” Kei struggles to articulate the feeling, like he’s eleven again and staring at his older brother across the court. It’s overwhelming and he feels like he’s drowning. So many things like that happen in the world, have happened to Tadashi.

It’s never been fair that someone as kind as Tadashi was raised the way he was, treated the way he was, hurt and bullied and ignored; Kei doesn’t even think the way he treated Tadashi when he was upset about Akiteru was fair. So many things pile up in the world around them that Kei wants to shield Tadashi from it— _so what_ , he wants to say, _so what, why can’t you have it all, why can’t you get what I think you deserve?_

“Sometimes things aren’t fair,” Tadashi says softly, pulling Kei from his thoughts. He rubs his thumb slowly against the base of Kei’s palm. “We just have to work to even it out. One day, it _will_ even out.”

Kei sighs, and studies Tadashi’s face. He reaches over the table with his free hand and tucks a lock of Tadashi’s hair behind his ear. “So… That’s… it then?” he asks.

“Yes. I think so. I think that’s the best thing to do for us, for this situation. To separate.”

 “…yes,” he says softly, breathing the answer out even though it hurts. It hurts him terribly. “I think so too.”

For the first time since realizing what had to happen, Kei allows himself to cry. 


	12. Another Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, transitional chapter.  
> Maybe even one that has the spiciest bit in the whole story? Who even knows.

“I think that’s the best thing to do for us, for this situation. To separate.”

Kei knew it was coming, knew that it was the only option that Tadashi would accept—his sweet, stubborn, soft-hearted Tadashi—but it still hurts. It hurts and hurts, and he can’t make it stop because it’s seeped into every pore of his skin. Even breathing makes him feel raw.

It’s not the clean, numb hurt of seeing Akiteru from across a volleyball court, or the ragged messy pain of seeing the bruises on Tadashi’s face and the bags at his feet when they were eighteen. It isn’t the clutching ache of seeing Tadashi asleep in the hospital, or the tear of holding his hand as Tadashi whispers that something is wrong with him.

It hurts like all of those old hurts combined, along with the pain of dislocated fingers hitting a ball, and the throat-tightening ache of turning his eyes away from his brother. It's the sick weight in his stomach as Tadashi weeps against his shoulder in front of his childhood home, their toes barely clearing the slammed-shut door. Of the knots in his back as he leans over Tadashi dry-heaving into the toilet as the ever-changing prescriptions take their toll on his body until they finally get it right.

He is made of layers of pains, and he feels them all at once. 

It’s fifteen years of building to this—their tiny apartment filled with the memories of fights they’ve had and kisses they’ve shared and the walls they’ve torn down and scaled up with ragged fingertips—being pulled away with one decision.

He knows it’s to do something bigger, something even more all-encompassing than this, but it still hurts. He knows that it isn’t really an end, that it’s a  _beginning_ , but new things hurt, new things can be scary. He is comfortable here, in the place they’ve built; he thought Tadashi was too. He knows that it isn’t because Tadashi is unhappy with him, either. But knowing doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t mean the thoughts aren’t there. 

He feels the tears on his face and on his hands as he cups them over his eyes and mouth. He barely recognizes his own voice from around his palm, muffled and tight and hiccuping as he tries to keep himself from sobbing aloud.

“Oh, Kei,” Tadashi murmurs, voice thick and mournful.

His name sounds like a cry itself, and Kei marvels at the fact that Tadashi can even speak. Tadashi is more prepared than he, it seems. “ _Tadashi_ ,” he cries into his hands. He’s begging. 

Tadashi is at his side in a second, arms cradling against his shoulders, tucking him to his chest. “Shhh,” Tadashi murmurs, “Shhhh. Kei, baby, shhh, I know, love, I know.”

The words are nonsensical as Tadashi rocks Kei against him as Kei has done for him so many times. Tadashi starts babbling to him, words soft and urgent and his voice breathless.

“It’s not forever, baby, you know that, please know that. I love you, I love you so much. I love how you look in the mornings, I love how you trip over the curtains and the sofa, I love how you brush your teeth, I love how you squint at the coffeemaker, I love you, it’s not the end,” Tadashi says.

Tadashi’s fingers clutch at Kei as Kei shudders another sob against him, his heart tearing in two. “I love you and I love how you smiled, how soft your voice got, how you folded up the drawings so carefully and kept them, I love how you hate bugs but you took the beetle when she gave it to you, even though you would never have taken it from me. Kei, I love you so much and I love her, too. That’s why I’m doing this, and it breaks my heart—we’ve never been apart, you know—”

“Tashi,” Kei hiccups, his arms shaking as he holds Tadashi tight.

“Ok, so we were ten when we met,” Tadashi concedes, somehow recognizing the reprimand in Kei's weak tone.

Kei snorts a gurgling laugh against the damp part of his shirt, and Tadashi knows that Kei’s ugly-crying, the sort that’s all spit and snot and tears. Feels the shudders against him as each wave of tears threatens to break Kei apart. It hurts _so much,_ to see and know and feel the same way.

Tadashi feels his own tears against his face, slowly leaking down his cheeks. “I can only do this because you love me, too,” he says.

“I do,” Kei agrees, words broken by another sob. “Everything, you _stupid_ , stubborn, bull-headed, loveable shit—why are you _so_ nice—how can you love that much?”

“Because you let me,” Tadashi says, petting through Kei’s hair until the blond quiets again, his cries sounding less and less like wails and dry-heaves and more like sniffles. He gently urges Kei to his feet and leads him to the sofa, kneeling in front of his lover.

Kei’s face is a mess, red and blotchy. His nose streams, and snot and saliva are smeared across his lips as he breathes heavily through his mouth. His glasses are fogged and stained with tears and behind them, his eyes are swollen and bloodshot. “Oh, Kei,” he sighs again, “Baby.”

Tadashi reaches up and cups Kei’s face in his hands, “Look at me, okay?” he asks. He rubs his thumbs slowly against hot and swollen skin. “Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean we’re not together. Because we _are_ ,” he says fiercely. “I love you and there’s nothing I’ve ever encountered that has changed that, so I’ll always love you.”

“Logical fallacy,” Kei says as he leans a cheek against Tadashi’s hands. They’re cool against his skin; he nuzzles into Tadashi’s palm, eyes closing as Tadashi rubs under his eyes with his thumb.

“Oh, shut up,” Tadashi laughs, voice trembling into a hiccup. “Don’t argue with me while I declare my undying love.”

“If I argue, you’ll keep declaring it,” Kei says softly.

“I’d do it if you asked,” Tadashi whispers. “I always will.”

Kei opens his eyes and looks down at Tadashi. Tadashi’s face is fierce, burning with the same intensity that earned him playing time in high school, undeterred by the tears that leak from his eyes and down his cheeks. “I’d do it even if you were too stubborn to ask,” Tadashi continues.

Tadashi’s elbows dig into Kei’s thighs and Kei can’t stand not being on even ground. He reaches forward and presses his hands underneath Tadashi’s armpits, and lifts. He doesn’t have to pull Tadashi entirely, because after the first tug upwards, Tadashi gets the hint and climbs solidly into Kei’s lap.

Kei wraps his arms around Tadashi, tucking his face against the brunet’s pulse. “I love you,” he says to the crook of Tadashi’s neck. “I love you, I don’t want you to leave. … but I do, somehow, I want you to leave, too. I want you—“ his voice catches, wavers.

It’s hard.

He’s never been able to express himself well. It’s too personal, too private, too raw for him. But this is Tadashi he’s speaking to, Tadashi who knows him better than he knows himself sometimes. Tadashi, who Kei knows so well that he can predict what Tadashi’s going to need, going to want, going to forget. Who Kei has taught himself to pick up and carry without forgetting that sometimes, Tadashi has to walk for himself.

“I want you to do what makes you happy,” Kei finishes quietly.

It hurts, but it’s the truth. Hiding things from each other, not being open, that just wasn’t how a relationship worked for them, never for them.

“I want you happy too, Kei,” Tadashi says, sliding his fingers through Kei’s hair. “And I think that, maybe, this is the best way for us to be happy.”

“It’s the best time for it,” Kei says, sniffing heavily. His eyes are hot and snot runs down the back of his throat, heavy and nauseating. “Internet and all that shit.”

“That’s right,” Tadashi answers, his voice warm and heavy with praise.

Kei sniffs again, trying not to rub his running nose against Tadashi’s skin, but Tadashi just cradles him close, fingers stroking through his hair. “What happens if it doesn’t work?”

“We’re gonna make it work, that's what,” Tadashi murmurs. “I don’t see you being anything but successful, though.”

“What about yourself?”

“Me? Well,” Tadashi laughs. “As long as you support me in my choices, I consider it a success.”

Another sob rises in Kei’s throat and Tadashi just rocks him, pressing his face to Kei’s hair. “I know,” Tadashi says. “I cried the entire train ride here, you know. I’ll probably cry all the way back to Miyagi too.”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“I’m attempting to comfort you,” Tadashi murmurs with a soft laugh. He kisses the crown of Kei’s head, then nuzzles against him. “Let’s do something fun today. Go on a date, make a lot of food, do some projects. Like usual.”

“Okay,” Kei says. He squeezes Tadashi, no longer aware of where his arms rest from prolonged contact. When he was a child he used to get motion sick on long car rides: Back then, he liked to clasp his hands together and close his eyes; eventually, he lost awareness of where his fingers began and where they ended, having been so tense that he became desensitized to his own touch. When he could open his eyes and be surprised he had his hands clasped, he’d be able to drift off to sleep, motionless and bigger than the jostle of the car.

A similar peace fills him now, like it does when he wakes up and Tadashi’s asleep on his arm or hand. It’s this pressure and inability to distinguish anything other than the fact that he’s holding onto Tadashi, and Tadashi’s holding onto him, is what finally quiets him.

A future without this steadiness, no matter how temporary the loss, is too much for Kei to fathom. It isn’t as if he’s taken their relationship for granted—he still wonders, in the dead of night and in the quiet moments, how he’s ended up so lucky.

Tadashi is his best friend, his best love, best future. And they’ve worked hard for it. They’ve fought tooth and nail, with curled fists and scrabbling bloody fingers, until their relationship is like breathing for them.

But even then, breathing _is_ work; just because the lungs can’t feel the pressure of the atmosphere against them, doesn’t mean it isn’t there, Kei thinks. Just over one hundred and one kilopascal’s, sitting on their shoulders every day—and yet breathing feels effortless.

It has always felt effortless with Tadashi when they finally get it right, get it good, between them. Things that were alien to Kei before, like checking Tadashi’s mood and reminding him about his meds when everything is busy, are second nature to him now. It’s effortless to sink into Tadashi’s body and tip his head back when Tadashi tips his down.

Each brush of Tadashi’s lips against his face feels like another heartbeat to him. It’s involuntary now to turn his face up and slide his hands up Tadashi’s back, warm and taut beneath his fingers.

The way they fall back against the cushions is easy. During times like this, when they’re breathing each other’s air and their fingers are locked tight, it’s just like breathing.

No one thinks about the air, how heavy it must be, how strong the body must be to withstand its weight day after day; no one inhales and feels the tension on their shoulders and thinks about the way their muscles and tendons and bones are knit just right to accommodate for motion and pressure and friction. Even once they know, it’s so easy to forget. It’s something that’s only felt when you stop and think about it, really think. 

Kei’s breath is ragged and wet; as he gasps, Tadashi leans into him with his entire weight. 

The body has to work, has to have energy, has to be taken care of. He can hold his breath; he can control his breathing, despite it being second nature. They’ve worked hard, Kei knows.

Years of work, years of habit, years of friction wearing off their sharp edges. One hundred and one (point three two five) kilopascals.

Fifteen years around his neck and down his arms and in his chest. It feels weightless most days, but it feels heavy thinking about the future. Fifteen years behind them, but decades more ahead of them. Kei feels it all, every ounce of weight against his body, every bit of work they do together—he can feel it all. 

“I can’t imagine a future without you in it,” Kei whispers, “So we have to make this work.”

“That was always my plan,” Tadashi murmurs with a lopsided grin. 

Tadashi has always been charming, just like that, all soft freckles and crooked smiles and the way his lips tremble before he cries. Kei can’t lift his hands, can’t move his body with the way Tadashi has him caged; he lifts his head and presses his cheek to Tadashi’s.

Tadashi moves into the movement, keeps their foreheads pressed tight together, his breath hot on Kei’s face. Kei can’t tell what’s sweat and what’s tears anymore; sometimes, he can’t tell where their mannerisms begin and end. Tadashi’s sarcasm and cockiness was once his own and his soft edges were once Tadashi’s.

Breathing isn’t always easy for Tadashi: While Tadashi may not be able to ascribe numbers to the weight against his chest, Kei knows he can describe the moments they were piled onto him, one by one. Sometimes he has to remind Tadashi to breathe—Tadashi has to remind Kei that this is work, what they have. 

Tadashi, the bright light in his life, is forever hopeful. He fights and he works and Kei adores him for it, even when Tadashi has to drag him along, kicking and screaming.

Tadashi, who maybe has more than one hundred and one (point three two five) kilopascals of burdens against his chest, who maybe can feel the atmosphere pressing down against him some days, forever sees a future where their hard work pays off. Where all that weight and pressure and work is worth it, even when it all is at it’s heaviest.

Kei has long since learned to believe in Tadashi.

He draws Tadashi closer to his body with his knees, mouth clumsily finding Tadashi’s as he shakes apart and Tadashi falls against him, his voice rough in Kei’s ear as he whispers things that Kei’s too dazed to fully hear.

“Bath,” Kei croaks eventually, once his fuzzy stupor wears off. He doesn’t know how long they laid in a heap on their poor old sofa, only that he’s itchy with sweat and uncomfortably damp where their bodies are pressed together. He’s also fairly certain that the second he unhooks his leg from Tadashi’s calf, he’ll get a cramp. Not to mention the ache at the base of his spine. 

“Mmph, Kei,” Tadashi complains lazily. He nuzzles against Kei’s neck, worming his arms underneath Kei’s shoulders to scoop his lover closer. “Five more minutes.”

Kei thinks about it, really, he does. But he doesn’t feel like deep cleaning the sofa, and the longer they lay there, the more likely it is that he’ll have to. “Didn’t you want to go on a date?” he coaxes, “Because I do.”

“Bull,” Tadashi mutters, then laughs when Kei swats at his shoulder. “You want a shower and a massage, I know you.”

Kei blinks with feigned innocence up at Tadashi, an effect that’s rather ruined by the quiet whimper tugged out of him with the way Tadashi moves against him as he pulls away. “Okay,” he says hoarsely, “Maybe a date isn’t all I want, but a nice shower can be considered a date.”

Tadashi snorts, “Your standards have always been weird.”

Kei shrugs, taking Tadashi’s hand as it’s offered. He grunts as he straightens, back and thighs protesting. They hadn’t gone particularly fast or hard, but twice in a row is a lot.

Tadashi gives him a soft look that’s equal parts fondness and exasperation and apology. “Tsukki,” he says softly.

Kei rolls his eyes and stands on shaking legs, Tadashi’s hand firm against his back, “Bath,” he reiterates.

Tadashi presses his fingers against the small of Kei’s back, nodding. “Hot bath.”

“God, yes,” Kei sighs.

Tadashi chuckles and guides Kei forward to their bathroom; the fight with the tub handles is second nature to him these days. He lets Kei get in first, then he follows, laughing as Kei loops his arms around his waist and sets his chin on his head.

“If you stay like that too long, the hot water will run out,” Tadashi warns.

Kei sighs and lets go, muttering under his breath something that sounded like ‘no fun’. But he knows that the shower is no place for shenanigans. 

When they first started living together, showers were awkward. Their bathroom was cramped as it was, and movie-urged bath time escapades didn’t quite work out (to put it lightly; Kei is still very embarrassed about the small scar under his chin). Maneuvering is still difficult, but it’s familiar and practiced.

Kei’s fingers rubbing shampoo through his scalp is just as intimate as sex, with less chance of slipping and ending up in the ER (again).

After their shower, and the subsequent backrub Tadashi owes Kei, they stretch out on the bed, peering at Tadashi’s phone for the instructions for the day’s project.

“That’s different,” Kei comments.

“I wanted to try it here, so if it doesn’t work out, Himawari won’t be upset, you know,” Tadashi hums, knocking his foot against Kei’s.

Kei knocks back, squinting at the pin. “Well, in theory? It should work,” he says. “In practice, I’m not sure. I mean, obviously _something_ will happen. Chemistry and all.”

“I know, right? We have everything except paper to do it,” Tadashi murmurs. “We can pick up some poster paper at the store and spread it out.”

“I’d move the furniture around a bit,” Kei says, “I mean, to be safe. And let’s get some water-based paint.”

Tadashi laughs, “Are you expecting it to go everywhere?”

“Yes,” Kei says seriously. “Look, you don’t fuck around with vinegar and baking soda. I still vividly remember my mother screaming after nii-san and I put the baking soda in his paper volcano and it _exploded_. Not like, a slow bubble over; a full on _explosion_. She thought all the red paint was blood.”

Tadashi pauses for a moment, then starts to snicker. “Really?! How come you never told me about this, oh my god, _Kei,_ ” he gasps, cheeks pink. “Did it get on your glasses? I bet it did!”

Kei groans and pushes at Tadashi, laughing despite himself. “Ugh, stop,” he murmurs between Tadashi’s giggles. “I was like, five! Of course it never came up, oh my god, stop—”

“Make me,” Tadashi laughs, nudging Kei’s forehead with his own. Kei takes the hint to roll to the side a bit, pressing his lips to Tadashi’s in a soft kiss.

“There,” he whispers, face smug. “I made you.”

Tadashi beams at him, a small proud thing, and Kei feels warmth deep in his gut. He smiles back and rolls to the side of the bed to stand. Once on his feet, he holds his hands out to Tadashi; “Well, let’s go on, then.”

Tadashi takes his hands and squeezes, “Yep, let’s go.”

Three hours later finds them with the ingredients for more food than they can possibly eat in two days (Kei thinks that Tadashi’s quietly stocking the fridge in preparation for his absence, but he really refuses to think about _that_ ) and the supplies for what the instruction page calls “paint bombs”. Kei is starting to think they should be called “in retrospect, or quite possibly foresight, a really bad idea”.

“Let me just state, that for the record, this is a terrible idea,” Kei says warily, watching Tadashi lay out newspaper and one large piece of poster paper.

“Kinesthetic learning is all the rage in parenting,” Tadashi says, “Shōyō says that he does it when he has preschool classes.”

“Okay, there’s your tip that this is a _terrible_ idea.”

Tadashi sniggers; “Just pour the vinegar and paint in the bag, Tsukki.”

“ _Tsukki_ , _Tsukki_ , well Tsukki says this is going to backfire spectacularly,” Kei grumbles to himself, despite obediently shuffling over to the kitchen counter.

“Hush!”

“Bad idea,” Kei says. “Bad, bad, bad.”

“ _Tsukki_!”

Kei pours vinegar into a ziplock bag, shaking his head. “It explodes, how can it be good for children?!”

“It’s supposed to be fun!”

“Fun is like, I don’t know, puddle stomping,” Kei grumbles, squeezing a tube of paint into the bag. He seals it and shakes it until the bag is a very lurid shade of green.

“You’re so old fashioned,” Tadashi sighs, “It’s cute. Now come here.”

Kei snorts and brings the bag to Tadashi. They both kneel on the poster paper, and Kei places the bag upright on the floor. “This is a bad idea,” he mumbles.

Tadashi smacks Kei on the arm, “Tsukki, hush!”

Kei pinches his lips into a tight frown. “Just saying,” he mutters.  

Dread rises in his throat as he watches Tadashi roll a small pile of baking soda into a wad of toilet paper.

“Here we go,” Tadashi says, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He eases the wad into the bag and pinches it at the top to keep it from falling in. “Seal it up, Tsukki.”

Kei dutifully pinches the bag closed, teeth sharp against his lips. He leans back and swallows hard as Tadashi lets the wad fall into the bag.

They wait. Nothing happens.

“Boo,” Tadashi mutters, prodding the bag.

“Um,” Kei says hesitantly. “I think we may need to step back.”

The toilet paper sloughs away into pieces, bubbles foaming up around it. A few bubbles multiply into several, which multiplies into a green-white froth that starts to tip the bag back and forth on the floor.

“Oh my god,” Tadashi laughs, “Look at it go.”

The bag starts to swell, and Kei scrambles back. “This is a _bad idea_ ,” he says urgently. “A bad idea!”

“But look at it, Tsukki!” Tadashi says gleefully.

Kei thinks Tadashi sounds a bit manic. He tears his eyes from the swollen and rocking bag to his lover’s face—all dimples and teeth and scrunched eyes. “You are ridiculous!”

“Look! It tipped over!”

Kei looks back at the bag, which has now teetered to its side, plastic taut. The fizzing is audible as the vinegar sloshes back and forth. He presses himself back up against the couch. “Tadashi,” he snaps, “I am wearing a _white shirt._ ”

Tadashi leans forward over the bag, eyes wide, “Your problem now.”

Kei wants to push Tadashi away from the bag, which is now straining and emitting a high whine. But to do so would be putting himself—and his white shirt—in the line of fire. “Tadashi!”

“I don’t think it’s going to explode,” Tadashi says sadly, prodding the plastic. “Man. I’m disappointed.”

“It is _whistling_! Get away from it,” Kei says.

Tadashi looks up and makes eye contact with Kei, then smirks.

“No, don’t you dare,” Kei spits out.

Tadashi lifts a hand from the floor and brings it down hard against the plastic. It pops with a wet sound—it’s about as loud as a balloon popping, but what’s even louder is Kei’s subsequent scream.

There’s silence for a few moments, then Tadashi starts to snicker. Snickering turns to full-out laughter as the smell of poster paint and vinegar grows stronger and paint cools on Tadashi’s fist.

There’s a nice splatter around his hand, and a good bit of it had landed on the bottom hem of Kei’s shirt and across his jeans. Kei looks absolutely affronted, mouth open and brows pinched so tight his nose is wrinkled up.

Tadashi thinks it’s the most hilarious thing he’s seen all week. And he’d already been treated to the sight of a toddler deciding her pants were hats earlier in the week. He leans forward, paint cool and slick against his fingers. “Tsukki,” he calls, voice breathy with amusement.

“No,” Kei says, scowling. “Don’t come here.”

“Kei,” Tadashi sings, shuffling over the poster paper. “Kei, come here, I think you have paint on your face.”

“No, no I do not,” Kei says, pressing his back against the sofa. “Don’t you come over here, you smell like a pickle. Do not—Tadashi!”

Tadashi continues to ignore Kei as he inches forward, who’s now giving a quiet gasp much like the ones he gives right before Tadashi tickles him. He walks forward on his knees, holding out his paint-smeared hands. The vinegar is drying more rapidly than he’d really like, making it tacky against his already-smarting skin, but it will do.

He reaches out and smears some against Kei’s cheek as he curls his fingers against Kei’s skin. Kei gives high pitched laugh, pushing against Tadashi in a way that’s more grabbing his waist than shoving. Tadashi taps a paint covered finger against Kei’s nose, laughing. His knees press against Kei’s thighs, probably leaving green prints. Kei stops jostling Tadashi away and just holds him, tipping up his pinched face to Tadashi’s.

“Rude,” Kei says simply. His mouth twitches and burns with the effort of holding back his own laughter.

“You screamed,” Tadashi replies.  

“Animal instinct.”

“You were a _middle blocker_ Kei, you should have gotten over the instinct ages ago,” Tadashi snickers.

“Explosions are not volleyballs,” Kei sulks. “This smells terrible. This cannot be good for children.”

“It’s vinegar,” Tadashi murmurs, watching the way Kei’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks. “Mom cleans with it, so I don’t think the way it smells will upset Himawari much.”

Kei’s fingers clench against his waist and Tadashi leans their foreheads together. Kei closes his eyes and a small smile teases at his lips; Tadashi is content with watching how Kei’s glasses fog and clear only to fog again with each of their breaths.

Tadashi’s fingers itch with the drying paint, but he doesn’t move.

Adulthood is nothing like he thought it would be—he thought, when he was younger, adulthood would be all the things he couldn’t have. Freedom from mundane responsibilities and the absence of other people telling him what he needed to do; that everything would be clean and easy and be the things he was promised when he was little. A good job for a good degree. Health if he ate right. A job that gave him forty hours and vacations and days where he could be sick but still be paid, and a paycheck that covered all of the things he needed. All of these things in exchange for silly hobbies and immature jokes.

He has none of these things. It’s harder than he ever expected. Sometimes he still feels like a kid, unsure of what steps he needs to take to move forward. He’s lucky if he works thirty hours a week, and double lucky if between himself and Kei—and Kei’s parents—they don’t have to eat rice and dried fish when they pay the bills and tuition at the same time. He hasn’t had a vacation since their sophomore year, between classes and odd jobs and internships. Sometimes he wakes up exhausted, wondering why he even exists, if he was even needed.

Except for Kei. Kei is staying up until two playing video games and making documents to track their money and the spice their rice dinners lack; he is dumb pranks and laughing so hard he cries. Kei makes the realities of life, the work he has to put forward, the balm for thankless jobs. Kei is his reward for coming home after a hard day, his best friend and partner in crime. Tadashi needs Kei, but Kei needs him, too.

And now, so does Himawari. Her need is different from Kei’s need—though this does not make them unequal in Tadashi’s heart. The fact that he loves them both is unchanged; it’s just the actions that he has to make to provide for them are different.

He is not exchanging one for the other, or abandoning Kei. He can still provide what Kei needs from him while providing for Himawari. It might take a lot of work, but long distance relationships aren’t inherently doomed, he thinks.

Adulthood is hard decisions. Perhaps, then, he was an adult before he even turned twenty, when the rest of Japan told him he was one—perhaps he’d been an adult the day he did not protest against his parents telling him to leave. Or maybe he’d been an adult before that, when he’d weighed the weight of his mother’s hand on his face against the weight of his love for Kei, and found Kei more important.

Adulthood is smearing paint on Kei’s face because he felt like flirting by teasing Kei like he’s a child all over again. Adulthood is the resignation letter on his hard-drive and the paperwork for the managing position Shimada had graciously given him when he’d gone to apply to be a cashier two days previously. Adulthood is laughing at Himawari playing in a box and holding her as she cries late at night.

Tadashi is content with this. This is far better, he thinks, than the picture perfect life he’d imagined as a child. It is  _worth_ something; it’s worth all of the struggles and imperfections and heartache. Smearing paint on Kei’s face, cramming themselves into a tiny shower, being apart in order to start a family bigger than just the two of them; Tadashi thinks he’d be a fool to choose anything different. 

Tadashi watches Kei’s eyes flick up, soaking in the warmth behind Kei’s golden irises. The bottoms of Kei’s eyes crinkle up with a smile and Tadashi closes his eyes.

Kei’s hands pull him closer and Tadashi tucks his chin against the top of Kei’s hair, nuzzling against soft curls.

“Kei,” he murmurs; “I think… that when I leave… maybe… You shouldn’t see me off.”

Kei squeezes Tadashi tightly, nodding against Tadashi’s shoulder. “I thought you’d say something like that,” he says softly. Resignedly. 

“D… d’you think it would be easier like that?” Tadashi asks. He won’t put Kei through it if Kei doesn’t think it’s worth it. 

“Yeah,” Kei says. He sighs slowly, tension ebbing out of his body. He slouches against the sofa, Tadashi leaning and sliding with him until they’re face to face again, legs loosely wrapped around the other. Kei laces his fingers behind Tadashi’s neck, studying his lover’s familiar freckled face in thought. “I mean… there’s no… ‘easier’ about it. But… if we just… do it…”

“Like a bandaid,” Tadashi supplies. “If I just leave… it’s not a big deal. It _is_ a big deal, but…”

“If we just go on like usual,” Kei agrees; “It’s easier to return to normal. You have to leave, regardless. And if we have our goodbyes privately, and go on like we would, it’s not as upsetting.”

Tadashi nods, fingers combing through Kei’s hair. He leaves little green flakes in his wake, making it look like Kei has some radioactive-type dandruff; it’s almost funny. He gives a crooked smile despite the ache in his throat.

Powering through it makes it easier.

Kei leans forward and presses a chaste kiss against Tadashi’s mouth. “What’re you smirking about, monster?” he mutters, pinching Tadashi’s chin between his fingers.

“Hulk dandruff,” Tadashi snickers.

Kei rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s clean this up and then we can cook.”

“You just want the cake.”

“Fuck yeah, cake,” Kei says promptly, rising to his feet. He holds out a hand for Tadashi, spattered and flecked, silver ring bright against a smear of paint.

Tadashi isn’t giving this up. He isn’t putting it on pause either—he’s going to work it out and see it through to the end. He can tell by Kei’s own firmness and usual sarcasm that Kei isn’t treating this like an end anymore either—they’re both willing to carry on and struggle through this, this evolution.

He squeezes Kei’s hand tightly; he doesn’t dread leaving like he did that morning. 

There will always be a place for him to return. He is content. 


End file.
